The Hunter's Game
by Short Work
Summary: There was no end to the trouble the stubborn ranger gave Dilys. But even as she steeled herself for a long battle with the man, she found herself inexplicably drawn to him, and enjoying their little game much more than she should have. BishopxKC
1. Hostage

_You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else. _-Einstein

Dilys had left her uncle Duncan to introduce Qara to the rules and duties she would have to learn for her stay at the Sunken Flagon. Their little party seemed to be growing more every day, and Dilys was always happy to welcome a willing member to their group. Qara seemed less than enthusiastic about the idea.

Dilys would have liked for them all to sit at the same table so they could discuss where they have been and where they were going, especially since she had been plagued by bizarre, blade-wielding creatures lately, but they were a bit short on chairs. She scanned the room for an unused one, but the tavern was quite busy this evening.

Her eyes came to rest at an empty chair at the corner of the table near the fireplace, next to one of the regulars who preferred to drink alone. She would normally have let him be, but he didn't seem to be using the chair so she approached the table.

"Excuse me," she started, placing her hands on the back of the chair she intended to claim.

"If I wanted a wench, I'd go to the local brothel," he cut her off without looking up from his drink. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise for a moment before she settled into a scowl. She knew his statement was aimed to shock her into leaving him alone, so she decided to battle it with a little shock value of her own.

"Well my shift doesn't start until after midnight, but you wouldn't be able to afford me anyway," she countered. "I'm in the top tier of wenches." He looked up at her then, and gave her a once over. His expression held the usual speculative glare that she would get from people when they noticed she had a bit of Aasimar in her.

Her dusky pink skin was paler than most, and the shiny platinum hair she always wore up made her look much older than her other features suggested, but she knew it was her uncanny golden eyes that put people off the most. They were just a shade too light to seem a natural brown.

She supposed people would just assume she was a fair-skinned human whose hair had grayed early on, and then learn otherwise when they saw her eyes. People didn't like surprises. It made them feel like she had tricked them before she even met them.

_This_ man however, quickly adjusted to her atypical eye color and let his eyes roam freely over her body. She suddenly regretted removing her armor earlier, as her clothes were snug enough to give him a generous view of her curvy form. She tried not to make her discomfort evident as she pulled the chair back from the table to interrupt his ogling.

"I'll just be borrowing this chair then," she said, gesturing towards the table her friends were sitting at.

"No, no, stick around," he drawled, leaning back in his chair and fixing his eyes on hers. "A few more drinks and you'll start looking good to me." Dilys's eyes narrowed and her grip on the back of the chair tightened, but she kept her smile pleasant.

"Certainly. As long as your coppers are going into the support of this fine establishment, you can get as drunk as you like." She nodded in approval. "If you're inebriated enough, you might even mistake my dwarf friend for a small woman and wake up with an amusing drinking story." The man lowered his head but kept his eyes fixed on hers.

"You're Duncan's relative aren't you?" he asked, though he expressed no sign of curiosity. In fact his face betrayed no sort of emotion whatsoever, unnerving but not intimidating her. He was obviously not a pleasant man, and she wasn't sure if it was wise to go into her life story with the likes of him. She decided the best response was to keep her answer short and sweet.

"Yes, he's my uncle," she replied, furrowing her brow. She needed to steel herself for another of his off-putting comments. He simply looked over at Duncan for a moment and then back at her.

"Can't say I see the resemblance," he said before smirking. She assumed it was the closest thing to a smile he had to offer, and she was uncertain whether to be flattered or worried. Dilys knew it was in her best interest to stay pleasant for as long as possible though. She had enough enemies dogging her trail already.

"Duncan is the half-brother of my foster father. He uses the term kin lightly," she said briskly. "Can I take this chair?" Dilys could hear some sort of battle of insults going on between Khelgar, Neeshka, and Qara across the room behind her. Considering they were all stuck here together because of _her_ she felt she should be with them, but she was stuck trying to get a chair without causing an outright tavern brawl.

She cursed herself for even bothering to acknowledge his first comment, but nooooo. Her big mouth wasn't about to walk away from a verbal smack down. Someone compliments her and she just shrugs it off, but when some random guy insults her she strikes up a conversation.

_Ugh_, she thought, disgusted with herself. She really needed to learn to just be silent sometimes. Unfortunately her internal frustration was starting to show on her face, which only seemed to spur on the man at the table.

"No, I'm using it," he answered, looking away from her and taking another swig of ale. She looked around the room, hoping someone she knew would walk by and provide backup. But no one came, and she was helplessly alone against this difficult man. She was no longer smiling, but remained civil.

"There's no one here," she said, realizing too late that pointing out the obvious wasn't going to do her any good. Maybe he would feel sorry for her stupidity and give up the chair then, but he just smirked again.

"You are," he countered. She cocked her head to one side, not quite certain what he was getting at. "Have a seat." She opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off. "Sit here for a little while and I'll let you have the chair," he bargained. "I won't even make you give it back." Dilys gave him a bewildered stare, without a clue of his motives.

"I don't need your permission you know, I could just take the chair," she explained. The last thing she wanted was for this to go on even longer.

"But you won't. You're much too _sweet_ a girl to take a man's chair when he's just offered an invitation at his table. Sit down." His tone was acidic, and she knew that if she just took the chair now, he could easily stab her in the back with that very conspicuous dagger he had strapped to his chest. She _was_ in Neverwinter after all, and the people here seemed to have no qualms about hurting others simply for sport.

She gave a heavy sigh before pulling out the chair and sitting down. _I should have just smashed the chair over his head_, she thought. But then a fight would break out, and Khelgar would start punching people right and left, and the Flagon would see a healthy share of property damages. While she certainly felt like hitting someone right now, she didn't want to do that to Duncan.

"You know I really should be seeing to my new guests," she offered, trying to keep things brief.

"I'm sorry. Do I look like I care?" he spat, his brown eyes flashing. The wheels began to turn in her head as Dilys gauged his reaction. He had switched back and forth between the epitome of unpleasantness to being almost bearable. She propped her elbow up on the table and rested her head in her hand, staring hard at him.

He seemed capable of civility if trying to hold an actual conversation, but whenever she had directly attempted to leave, he lashed out, acerbity and sarcasm being his primary language. She didn't really want to have a conversation right then and there, but he wasn't giving her much choice. She needed to take control of the situation, and that would mean getting on his good side until he was willing to release his hostage. All she had to do was speak his language.

She must have been staring too long at him because he leaned in and asked, "Has it been that long since you've seen a real man?" Dilys's eyes gained a challenging glint, and she determined right then and there that if she was going to have to play his game, she would not loose.

"Well," she started, looking back at her companions at the table. "There's- uuh… Khelgar… no, he's really just half of one…" she mumbled. "Maybe Duncan… err…" She turned back to him and shrugged, a shifty grin dancing on her features. "I guess so." His eyes narrowed ever so slightly and the barest hint of a smile tweaked at the corner of his mouth.

"What's your name?" he asked slowly, his voice making it sound more like a command than a request. She lifted her head slightly, her hesitancy evident. He chuckled in a way that sounded almost sinister to her. "You don't trust me?" When she didn't reply, he continued. "Come now. It's not like I can use it against you."

"Dilys," she replied glancing down to feign examining her fingernails. Her eyes were invisible through her thick lashes when she did this, forcing a break in eye contact.

"Dilys Farlong, eh?" he asked. He was using assumptions to get information without asking for it. It was a rather underhanded approach and she knew she needed to change the direction of the conversation to bypass it.

"Dashurie," she corrected. "Dilys Dashurie. I go by my mother's surname."

"I wouldn't want to admit any relation to Duncan either," he said. "As I'm sure your mother isn't nearly as boorish."

"I wouldn't know," she muttered, ending the line of conversation. "And your name is…?"

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Bishop."

"Hmm," she replied, looking back up at him. "I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you Bishop, but my idea of pleasure is a little different." She set the bait that he would no doubt take.

"Well now," he started, leering at her. "Why don't we go somewhere more private and you can show me what your idea of pleasure is?" His response was exactly what she had anticipated. Dilys enjoyed seeing her methods bear fruit, and her need to be rid of his company was suddenly much less urgent.

"See, I don't know if you'd like it," she said, clasping her hands together on the table. "It involves a cat o' nine tails and a washboard, and various gymnastics on your part." He actually laughed then; a lighter laugh that contrasted his dark demeanor.

"I'm guessing you haven't had many takers on that offer?" he asked with a sly grin.

"Not a one," she replied with a genuine smile as she leaned back in her chair. "It's a rather adventurous endeavor, and adventurers are so hard to come by these days."

"If you haven't had any takers then how do you know you'd like it?" Bishop asked, being contrary simply for the sake of it. Dilys wondered if he would argue with a compliment just so he wouldn't have to concede anything.

"You never learn anything new without a little experimentation," she replied with a wink.

"I see," Bishop replied. "So if I suggested an _experiment_, you'd be willing to help me out?"

"If it interests me," Dilys said, bringing her finger to her mouth in thought. "Though I'm usually interested in the methods that allow me to physically harm others, so you can understand how most people would choose someone else to be their assistant."

Bishop smiled wryly. Her little act was an effective way to get someone to bugger off without causing a scene. But he could tell that it was just that- an act. And he wanted to look behind the scenes.

"Hmm," he started. "I guess growing up in West Harbor gave you an over inflated sense of adventure…" Dilys stopped smiling and tensed up a bit at his remark. Maybe this wasn't going to be as easy as she thought.

"Where'd you hear that?" she asked in a casual voice.

"Duncan said something about it," he replied, his smirk matching her voice. Bishop watched with amusement as she turned around in her seat and gave the back of Duncan's head a dirty look from across the room.

"Big mouth…" she mumbled under her breath before turning back to Bishop. If he wanted personal information he was going to have to give up some first.

She looked at him for a calculated instant before speaking. "So you're Duncan's friend I take it?" Bishop mirrored her earlier reaction as his smile melted from his face, leaving a mask of stoicism.

"Not exactly," he replied, taking a sip of ale to obscure his face with the mug. Dilys would have to remember to have a drink handy if she was ever being interrogated.

"Then why are you always staying at the Sunken Flagon?" she asked. "It's not exactly the nicest place on the Docks, it's not even the cheapest."

"Because I like waiting around for spirited little Aasimars to approach me in need of my services," he replied, sounding almost bored with her question. "I'm only too willing to deliver."

Dilys slumped a bit. She wasn't going to get a straight answer out of him about anything. All she could do was keep playing his game. She _was_ having a little fun however.

Growing up in West Harbor, she had grown quite accustomed to playing with the boys, leaving her with a bit of a competitive edge. Of course, in West Harbor, playing was often comprised of fighting off the swamp spiders. And she had grown up with all of them, whereas she knew nothing about Bishop. It was a new challenge to get a misanthrope to enjoy her company, and a little thrilling.

She crossed her arms and said, "I'm not a little girl you know. I bet I even have more experience than you." She savored the ambiguity hanging in the air.

"Oh really? And how do you intend to prove that?" Bishop asked. "Are you going to teach me a lesson? Put me in my place?" Dilys turned her nose up at him and thought for a moment.

"One sword and a half plate against any arsenal of weapons you have to offer. This is the method with which I will educate you," she said with a confident smirk, keeping the terms clear and clean cut. "I hope you like pain."

Bishop laughed softly before saying, "Bold words, little girl. But you're in way over your head." He leaned in and rested his forearm on the table. "You don't stand a chance."

She leaned in as well to meet his challenge, making it appear to onlookers as if they were discussing some sort of conspiracy. She stared him right in the eyes and grinned before replying. "Bring it on."

"Dilys, what are you doing over here?" Duncan's voice sounded, bringing Dilys back to the present. She suddenly realized how close her face was to a strange man's and quickly sat up straight in her chair. "Your companions are waiting for you." Duncan continued, walking up to them and placing himself at the corner of the table between her and Bishop.

"Ah, Duncan. Master of timing as always," Bishop said. Dilys watched as his expression turned sour. He apparently did not like Duncan. But then again, a lot of people didn't like Duncan, and Bishop seemed the type to not like anyone.

"Why are you bothering her Bishop? Why don't you just stick to your own company like you usually do," Duncan spat. He assumed that Bishop must have been harassing her, and if he had come by earlier, he would have been correct. But she had just gotten things under control and she wanted to make sure they stayed that way.

"It's all right Duncan. We were just exchanging dirty limericks," she said with the sweetest smile she could muster. They both stopped glaring at each other and turned to look at her. "Besides, there weren't any chairs left at our table."

"I'll get you a chair out of the back room," Duncan replied, collecting himself. "Come on now." Duncan moved away from the table and gestured for her to follow him.

"There's no need for that. She can have my extra chair," Bishop said in what may very well have been the most placating tone possible. Duncan's jaw dropped in response. He thought he would have died before seeing Bishop displaying an act of courtesy.

"Are you sure?" Dilys asked, matching his tone. "I wouldn't want to infringe upon your comfort." Duncan's expression was priceless, and she wanted to prolong it for as long as possible.

"I _insist_," Bishop replied, noting her willingness to annoy Duncan and reveling in the opportunity to make him squirm. "Take it."

"Why thank you," she responded, offering Bishop a smile she had perfected to devastation when she was younger, before turning to Duncan. "Duncan, why didn't you tell me you had such pleasant people staying at the Flagon?"

"I, uh…" Duncan just trailed off, immensely confused that she had just referred to Bishop as pleasant. "Let's uh, just get this chair over to the table," he managed to finally say, picking up the chair and moving toward the group table. Dilys shot one last victorious smirk at Bishop before turning and following her uncle. Bishop listened carefully to eavesdrop on them as they walked away.

"You must really have a way with people Dilys," Duncan said. "Bishop is normally the most disagreeable person in all of Faerun."

"Really? I can't imagine that," she replied, rather satisfied with the resolution of her little dilemma. "I find his company to be quite… animating." Duncan turned his head and stared at her for a moment before shaking his head.

"I think all of this adventuring you've been doing has left you a little not right in the head," he said, not entirely joking.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that," Dilys mused. "It makes me so much more interesting."

Bishop laughed quietly to himself before returning his attention to his drink.

_Very interesting indeed._

* * *

><p><strong>Phew! I started this as a series of one-shots shortly after the game was released, and then slowly weaved them all together over the years until it became a unified story, the longest one I've ever written. It's completely finished, but since each chapter is a self contained event, I'll be updating it once a week, on Fridays.<strong>

**This is the first real fanfiction I got serious about writing, though I had posted others before now. So I'd love if you, the dear reader, would review each chapter, like it or hate it, so I can know what works and what doesn't. You will receive much love for doing so!**


	2. Special Forces

The small group marched single file on their route with impressive haste. Dilys walked quietly with Qara behind her, and Casavir bringing up the rear. Leading all of them was the ranger, Bishop. He had very clearly _not_ wanted to join them on their quest, and was along only after being forced by Duncan. Dilys had only met Bishop once... A rather challenging experience to say the least, but she couldn't track her way out of a burlap sack. If they were going to find Shandra, they needed him. He had remained silent since he had barked out his first orders, pausing in their pursuit only to be sure of the trail.

Dilys frowned inwardly. She was going to need to talk to him sooner or later, and they had already crossed the Luskan border. Preparing herself for his surly demeanor, she jogged ahead a bit and fell into step beside him.

"Bishop," she said.

"What do you want?" he asked gruffly. "You're not paying me to have a conversation." Dilys sighed softly. For all the flaws and prejudices in their little group, they were, for the most part, tolerant of one another. They shared a camaraderie that allowed them to be comfortable, without actually having to like each other. Bishop's presence however, was a bit like throwing a stick in the wheel spokes, and Dilys felt exceedingly uncomfortable in the presence of his brooding.

"We just need to discuss some tactics for when things get rough," she said, falling into placation mode.

"What's there to discuss?" he asked without taking his eyes off of the trail. "_You_ all can do what ever it is that you do best, and I'll do what _I_ do. I'm not sticking around long enough to learn your little group dynamics."

"That's too bad, they offer an excellent Dilys Group Dynamics course at Neverwinter Academy," she quipped, trying to defuse her quickly rising anger. "Look, we're going to have to fight sooner or later, and I'm going to need to know where everyone is to be effective. Now, are you going to use your sword or your bow?" Bishop cocked an eyebrow at her.

"You planning some sort of special formation or something?" he asked, wondering how competent she could be with relatives like Duncan.

"We're _always_ in formation," she replied snappily. "Even right now we have the spellcaster sandwiched between the two fighters, and the scout up front. When we approach the enemy, Casavir will take up the offensive on the frontline, and Qara will hang behind and use missile attacks and support magic." Dilys eyed Bishop's bow warily. "Were it my choice, I would put you near Qara and have you picking off the enemy from afar with your bow. Maybe switch you to melee if one gets by Casavir."

"And what's your assignment?" Bishop asked, noting her curious armor. She wore only a half plate over her casual clothing, accompanied by a pair of armored gauntlets. From the waist down she was unprotected, and it seemed to be a rather top-heavy and inefficient setup. Furthermore, she didn't carry a shield, and rather wielded a faintly glowing greatsword that was too large to hold with one hand. If he didn't know any better, he would think that she didn't know a damn thing about fighting. But he had heard too many stories that told otherwise to dismiss her completely.

Yet.

"I'm…" she said, searching for the words. "Special forces, adapting to whatever the situation requires."

"Your team must be pretty ineffective if you're the only one that can adapt," Bishop replied, casting a condescending glance back at Casavir.

"Everyone's had to adapt just to stand being in the same room with each other," she countered. "But out on the battlefield, I'll be the most mobile. I usually seek out the leader and eliminate him first to weaken the enemy's structure, then take out their spellcasters for damage control. If anyone else gets overwhelmed then I'll lend them a hand, but more often than not I rely on my teammates to help me out. The enemy doesn't normally appreciate a fighter diving through their ranks."

"Your armor isn't nearly hardy enough to take that kind of beating," Bishop said with a scoff. "Not to mention you look as if you're about to fall over from the weight."

Dilys gave him a ponderous look. Her armor may have been top-heavy but she didn't think she cast a weak image. She had muscles in some places and curves in others, but she was a tall, sturdy woman, not much shorter than Bishop himself.

"Heavier armor would slow me down," she explained. "And since I'm not particularly fast or graceful as it is, I need to be flexible. My technique dictates-"

"Hold on," Bishop interrupted, holding an arm out to stop her in her tracks. He crouched down and looked out at a small village they had just approached. "Something isn't right," he muttered. Dilys knelt beside him and looked ahead to see a ghost town, scuffled with signs of recent activity.

"You're right," she said, as Casavir and Qara joined them on the ground. "The village is abandoned, not a villager in sight." She paused for a moment and scanned their surroundings. "And no livestock either…" she muttered, mostly to herself. Bishop glanced at Dilys before looking back out at the town.

"Hmm. I noticed the villagers, but you're right about the livestock. Good eyes," he added almost grudgingly. Dilys turned to him with slight surprise. That was the first positive thing he had said all day.

"We're on the trail of our friends, though," Bishop continued, noting the tracks in the mud. "They're moving fast, but it looks like we've closed in a bit."

Dilys furrowed her brow. An abandoned town was the perfect setup for an ambush, but what else could they do but proceed? She turned her head towards Bishop. He was the one leading them around the wilderness at the moment, perhaps he would make the better decision.

"Should we wait here, see what happens?" Dilys asked. Bishop paused and looked at her briefly. He expected an order, not for her to ask his opinion.

"What!" Qara interjected. "We've come all this way, now we're going to sit around and wait?" Everyone turned towards her shrill outburst, and Dilys reacted with a quiet _'__shh'_.

"We need to remain quiet Qara," Casavir offered with a stern chastising gaze, while Bishop gave a condescending smirk before speaking.

"Now, now, little empress, you just listen to your leader here," he said, an amused smile never leaving his features. "Might just save your life."

"Forget that!" Qara sneered. She rose from her crouch and started walking towards the village.

"Qara!" Dilys hissed through gritted teeth, but the headstrong sorceress just kept walking. Bishop released the laugh that had been building up.

"Looks like you need to hold a tighter leash," he told Dilys with a superior grin. She ignored his comment and chased after Qara, who was currently strolling into the outskirts of town. Dilys ran up in front of her to stand face to face, blocking Qara's path. When Dilys opened her mouth to reprimand her, her words were replaced with the sound of a metallic clang. Dilys turned around to see the arrow that had glanced off of the back of her chest plate fall to the ground.

"Ambush!" she yelled, signaling for everyone to attack. Qara immediately dashed back for cover, quickly casting a stoneskin spell on herself. Dilys and Casavir charged forward to meet the horde of enemies that was now flooding out of the houses. Bishop dodged to the side and drew his bow, taking out the githyanki that had fired the first arrow.

He took a quick count of the enemies, noting how they were very much outnumbered, and immediately set to taking out all the archers he could find. He spotted Casavir coming to a halt to engage a swordsman, but noticed that Dilys just kept running. She held her greatsword close to her body and just plowed through the enemies, letting them come into contact with her blade without much movement of her arms.

A hideous githyanki yielding an incredibly large ax stopped her advance, taking a wide horizontal swing towards her midsection. Already moving too fast in one direction to dodge into another, Dilys instead ducked underneath the swing and dove towards the ground, sliding to a stop. Before he could bring his ax down on top of her, she frantically swung her sword around and hacked at his legs.

The gith howled in pain as Dilys scrambled to her feet. She blocked a quick angry ax swipe with her sword, bringing the weapon to her chest and pushing back forcefully. The ax wielder fell backwards into the dirt, and Dilys dove on top of him, using the force of her body to plunge her greatsword into his chest. A few smaller githyanki ventured to attack her once the danger of being struck with an ax was neutralized, and she rolled out of the way to rise into a counter attack.

Bishop watched her movements between his arrows. Her style of fighting was entirely unorthodox, and looked rather ridiculous. She ducked when he would have dodged, and lunged when he would have swiped, always using the full force of her body as her weapon. She was surprisingly efficient, using her armored gauntlets and greatsword to block enemy weapons, and occasionally jumping _into_ an attack to catch a sword in the ribs of her chest plate.

The top heavy nature of her armor and the large weapon she was wielding sent her falling to the ground quite often, and given the rolling way she maneuvered when she did so, he would have guessed that it was more efficient for her to fall than to try to regain her balance. She used that weakness to her advantage by taking the enemies by surprise, keeping her motions sporadic and unpredictable.

Would he have to describe her fighting style, he would call it 'sword wrestling', and for all her flailing movements, it was _incredibly_ entertaining.

He couldn't help but laugh.

When Dilys had dispatched the immediate enemies, she ran off again in the direction she had initially charged. Bishop followed her route to see that her destination was the enemy leader, and let a hail of arrows fly to thin out her path. He noticed that she wasn't getting swarmed from behind because in between fireball blasts, Qara was flinging magic missiles at any enemy Dilys had injured but not killed in her wake.

When she reached the commanding githyanki, she used her momentum to send him flying to the ground, and brought her sword down heavily across his neck. Dilys winced at the unpleasant cracking of bone, but quickly rolled away and moved onto another target.

With their leader dead, the githyanki lost what little order they had and all just started attacking blindly. Bishop took that as his cue to bring out his blades, and join in the fray. Qara cast a color spray to further the enemy confusion, and Casavir was doing a tidy job keeping any of the gith from getting past him to reach her.

With the numbers thinned and her life no longer in immediate danger, Dilys stole a glance at each of her companions. Qara was casting spells from a safe distance, and Casavir was serving well as an aggressive defense. On the other end of the village, Bishop was fighting parallel to him, and her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer.

Where Casavir was steadfast and used strong and steady strikes, Bishop was constantly moving forward, weaving gracefully from one attack to the next. He swiped wide with his longsword, bringing down a foe, and slashed quickly through the next enemy with his dagger before the motion was through. He maneuvered himself between enemies so that they were forced to fight him one at a time, spinning and ducking with amazing speed and precision.

Would she have to describe his fighting style, she would call it 'a dual wielding dance', and for such a violent act, it was ironically beautiful.

She couldn't help but laugh.

"Nice little ambush they planned here!" Bishop yelled over the din of their battle. Dilys could hear him clearly as her sword sliced through the tender flesh of a githyanki, and proceeded to run over to where Bishop was cutting through the last of the enemies. "Decent effort, sloppy execution," Bishop continued as he ended the foe's life with a single swipe, just as Dilys reached him. She leaned over on her sword and caught her breath.

"It might have even worked if I hadn't been here," he said, regarding her smugly. Casavir and Qara joined them where they stood as Dilys wiped her brow on her harvest cloak. She ignored the pang of regret she felt whenever she laid eyes on the pale green frock, the events from the Harvest Festival and the following night still a fresh but fading memory.

Dilys frowned at the cuts she had received on her upper arms. The unguarded bit of skin was always the place where she got hurt, and she wasn't quite skilled enough to keep it from happening. Finding herself bereft a healing potion, she did a quick once-over on her companions to be sure no one was injured before stating, "Take a collection everyone." Bishop quirked a brow at her as Casavir and Qara moved away.

"Gathering gold and valuables off of the fallen enemies," Dilys explained. "We don't get paid for rescuing damsels you know." She walked over to one of the bodies to claim a finely crafted dagger from the belt. "I suggest you gather some arrows," she told Bishop, gesturing to his depleted quiver.

"How very practical," he drawled with mock admiration as he scooped up a quiver of githyanki arrows. She didn't need to tell _him_ about the habit of corpse picking; it was necessary out in the wild.

"They left a large force in this village..." Bishop said, surveying the body count. "Which means it'll be easier on us when we catch up to the others, as long as we catch them before they go to ground." Dilys shook her head with a furrowed brow.

"It's good that their forces are divided," she said, Casavir coming up behind her to offer a claimed set of healing potions. "But that means the remainder will travel faster, and the trail will be harder to follow. Thank you Casavir," she replied, and uncorked the bottle to rub some of the potion on her arms. Bishop raised his eyebrows warily at her.

"Well, now, aren't _you_ a bright ray of hope," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

"She was just pointing out the realities of the situation, Bishop," Casavir said firmly. The longer he spent around the ranger, the more he disliked him.

"I suggest you rein in that attitude of yours, paladin," Bishop shot back with a disdainful sneer. The very thought of paladin ideals made his stomach churn. "What, you think our leader can't speak for herself?"

"It was not my intention to speak for her," Casavir corrected.

"Yeah? Then don't," Bishop said. "And maybe next time you'll sound convincing." Dilys glanced back and forth between the two men uneasily, wary of the tension.

"What I was _going_ to say is our leader's right..." Bishop continued. "And what's more, our friends won't be leaving an obvious trail this time, since they don't have the men to bait any more ambushes." Dilys kicked one of the githyanki corpses. She actually had far less resistance getting to the leader than normal, and the trail of arrows clearing her path was the obvious explanation.

"If that was the best they could do, we'll be fine," she said. Although Dilys preferred not to have to constantly risk the lives of her companions and herself, she also knew the importance of high morale. No one but herself had taken a scratch. They would be able to handle anything the gith would throw at them.

"Yeah, that was fun!" Qara gushed as she walked forward with a handful of scrolls. "I hope they send more after us." Dilys spun around angrily to face her.

"_You_ nearly got me killed, Qara. If that githyanki had better aim I'd have been turned into a gith-kebab, all because you had to throw a tantrum and go stomping into coverless territory."

"Oh, don't you start telling me what I should or shouldn't do," Qara said, rolling her eyes. "I got enough of that at the Academy, and I don't need it now."

Dilys slowly slid the greatsword into the scabbard on her back. Having a weapon handy when dealing with Qara's ego was too strong of a temptation.

"I'm not your instructor," Dilys said with quiet firmness. "Or your boss. But I _am_ your leader, and I will end up responsible if you get yourself killed out of incompetence. So when I _suggest_ a strategy I expect you to comply so we can work as a _team_."

"You know, others have tried to lecture me," Qara scoffed. "And I really could care less. I don't _need_ to work as a team; I'm powerful enough on my own."

"Then leave," said Dilys, remaining relatively calm. "If we're all just holding you back then by all means go on without us." Qara pouted and stomped her foot, looking very much like a petulant child.

"You know I can't find my way through Luskan territory," she countered. "And you can't either."

"You're right, I can't. That's why I'm depending on Bishop to lead us through here," Dilys said, not taking her eyes off of the sorceress. "The same way _you_ depend on Casavir to keep the enemies off of you, and the way he depends on me to eliminate the special threats. We work together, or we don't work at all. So stop being a problem."

"Problem?" Qara mimicked, her voice rising annoyingly high in pitch. "My _problem_ is people keep telling me what to do, and I don't need to hear it anymore."

"Fine," Dilys said with a sigh, tired of a conversation with someone who didn't want to listen. "I won't bring you along on any more of my little adventures. You can stay in the Flagon and clean dishes."

"And here I was hoping you two would start clawing each others eyes out," Bishop said, clearly enjoying the exchange. Qara put her hands on her hips and furrowed her brow.

"Why does it even matter anyway? We wiped the floor with them," she said.

"We did well in _spite_ of you, Qara," Dilys answered. "Not because of you. It would have gone a lot smoother if you hadn't gone stumbling into a trap and drawing arrow fire. Even Bishop's initial attack was more coordinated than yours, and he's never even fought with us before." Dilys had to admit, Bishop was a surprisingly effective addition to their unit, following along with their tactics as if he had been fighting with them for weeks.

"A little difficult, but we handled it," Bishop said, confident in his own abilities to take down the gith with or without the sorceress. "More than could be said for the villagers here, giving up their homes to the enemy." He looked at the rows of houses with disdain.

"The githyanki are not common soldiers, and the villagers are not veterans of battle like we are," Casavir spoke, slightly relieved for the opportunity to wrest the argument away from Dilys and Qara. "This is not the first time the githyanki have appeared at a village unawares, surprise and ambushes favor them. I think the behavior of the villagers can be forgiven."

"Those who stand up for themselves are the ones who deserve to live," Bishop said impatiently, as if holding a conversation with Casavir was simply a waste of time. "If you aren't willing to kill for it, how important can it be?"

"Fighting is not the only option," Casavir replied sternly. "And a willingness to die is not always a testament to what one believes." Dilys quirked a brow at this. His actions at Old Owl Well led her to believe he thought otherwise.

"What difference does it make?" Dilys interjected. "For all we know the villagers abandoned this town long before the gith arrived." Both men turned towards her. "I mean, if the gith were going to kill them anyway, why would they let them stay in their houses while-"

"Forgive me..." A pretty young woman approached the group, slipping out from behind a door of a nearby house. She had the rustic air of a farmer about her, with her flaxen hair tied back and a small flower tucked behind her ear. "You... are you hunting a woman, Shandra Jerro?" Dilys stared at her for a moment, a perplexed expression on her face. Bishop studied her carefully, gauging her reaction.

"Yes, we're hunting her," Dilys replied, breaking out of her reverie. "Did you see her?"

"Those creatures, we heard her screaming as they were carrying her off," the farmer answered. "I tried to call out to her, but... I didn't realize they had her at first." She spoke with long pauses between her sentences, clearly shaken about the whole incident. "She makes a merchant run through Ember and Port Llast during harvest season. We hadn't seen her yet this year, though, and-"

She paused when she noticed Dilys staring at her again, as if something was missing. "Sorry, where are my manners?" she replied, forgetting her name. "I am Alaine. Please, I saw the beasts taking her to the mountains to the north and east. They barely have an hour on you, but they were moving fast." She paused once more, her large brown eyes swimming. "And thank you for saving us from those creatures, I can't thank-"

"It's no trouble, Alaine," Dilys interrupted, shaking her head briskly. "Thank you, and we'll try and rescue Shandra."

"You have our word, Alaine," Casavir added, never one to neglect the comfort of a worried woman. "We shall do what we can to return Shandra safely."

"We promise no such thing. In fact, she could be dead," Bishop said quickly, annoyed at promises made to people who could barely be considered alive. "But we'll follow this trail as long as we _feel_ like it. Now run back home with the rest of your scared kinsfolk." Dilys sighed, twisting the sticks in her hair tighter and wearily brushing any loose locks behind her ear.

"Forgive him, Alaine," Dilys replied, eying Bishop with a catty look. "It takes a dog to hunt dogs."

"That's the truth," Bishop said, responding with a wolfish grin. "Ah, I think I'll like this journey. Now, can we go without more mewling dogs getting in our way? Every moment we wait, the trail gets colder."

"Yes," Dilys answered quietly, a thoughtful expression on her face. "And Alaine," she said, beckoning her closer. Dilys gently plucked the flower out from behind her ear. "Next time choose swords instead of flowers." Bishop smirked, recognizing the Eastern proverb.

"Listen to our leader," he commanded. "Next time, fight, girl. Or next time, you'll die."

"Not if I am here, ranger," Casavir cut. "Should you or anyone else forsake them."

"You can't be everywhere, _paladin_," Bishop said in a low voice. "And sometimes defending the weak just keeps them weak."

"Enough already, we've wasted enough time talking," Dilys said, stopping the fight before it started. Her comment for Alaine wasn't meant for them. Dilys made a mental note about the behavior of the two men before saying, "Let's move."

"I second that," Qara muttered under her breath, still sore from being told what to do.

"Fine by me," Bishop replied. "Let's leave this worthless village behind." He quickly found the trail again and began to lead the way to their next inevitable confrontation.

* * *

><p><strong>Maybe if Dilys didn't have such a dismal dexterity score she'd be able to fight a little more gracefully.<strong>

**Special thanks to those that reviewed. They are very much appreciated!**


	3. Enjoy the Scenery

"Why didn't you tell me any of this sooner?" Dilys pleaded, clutching at her chest. She was fingering the neckline of her armor, pulling the chest plate a little further from her body while her hand rested over her heart. She had been doing this subconsciously since they had rescued Shandra, and more than a few of her companions had noticed. She seemed to be fine however, and no one mentioned it.

"Believe me I wanted to," Duncan offered. "But my brother…" He was cut short when Bishop walked up between them, snaking an arm around each of their shoulders.

"Why the long faces you two? Somebody die? If so, sounds like a cause for celebration to me." Duncan ducked under Bishop's arm and pulled the other off of Dilys.

"Don't you lay a hand on her, you hear me?" Duncan seethed. Bishop sneered in response. It seemed that Duncan had a weakness for his kin, something that Bishop could and most certainly would exploit.

Dilys lost her thoughts in the fireplace, oblivious to the commotion around her. Her chest ached from the knowledge of her mother she had craved for so long. Or perhaps the pain was residual from when the Githyanki had tried to forcibly pull the silver shard out of her chest. Either way, the pain would have not been as severe if she had been prepared for it. A duty the man who she called father failed to uphold.

She shut her eyes against the thought of Daeghun. He was no more of a father to her than Duncan was. She had been accustomed to his indifferent attitude, but to hide this secret from her for so long was nothing short of neglect. She gritted her teeth and made a silent vow. She would call him father no longer.

"By the way, I've decided it would be in both our interests if I stay on with you." Dilys snapped out of her reverie and turned her head to find Bishop standing right next to her. She fixed her eyes on him and nodded slowly, her mind still elsewhere.

"The more the merrier," she replied quietly. He angled his head and seemed as if he was about to speak before Duncan began to heckle him, arguing that he didn't need to stick around. Casavir chimed in too, obviously against having Bishop around any longer. Bishop was cut from a very different mold than Casavir, and the two men couldn't be more different. They already disliked each other, and Dilys could tell they would clash continuously if she didn't go out of her way to keep them apart.

Of course, _everyone_ seemed to dislike Bishop, and she planned to keep her eye on him at all times. Incidentally, he intended to do the same for her, but for entirely different reasons.

"Duncan!" she practically shouted, startling and effectively silencing all bickering parties. "I need to use the wash room, could you go draw some water from the well for me?" The task that called upon his hospitality seemed to make Duncan completely forget what he was arguing about.

"Certainly, Dilys," he answered, heading for the storage room to grab a bucket.

"Casavir," she continued, but paused to dig through her satchel. "Here," she said, bringing out the shards. "These things have caused me quite a headache today. I intend to keep them on me at all times, but for now I want to get as far away from them as possible." She handed the shards to him. "I trust you can find someplace safe for them for the moment?"

"Of course, Dilys" Casavir replied, honored that she would entrust such important items to him. He took the shards to one of the backrooms to find a hidden nook for safe keeping.

"And Bishop…" she concluded, her eyes coming to rest on the man who had everyone riled up. His face was like stone, _daring_ her to try to give him an order. "Well, I guess I can't expect you to do me any favors, huh?" she asked, quirking one eyebrow and crossing her arms. Bishop leered at her and leaned in, prompting Dilys to step back to keep her distance.

"Well now. It all depends on the 'favor'," he said with a dangerously smooth voice. "I'm a man of many talents, and not all of them involve scouting." Dilys's mind briefly trailed back to their pursuit of Shandra's capturers. Bishop had proved himself quite useful. Considering her own penchant for getting lost, he was actually just the kind of man she needed around. Unfortunately the price of his skills was his abrasiveness. Dilys would have to figure out a way to deal with him or else she would be driven mad.

"Shandra…" Dilys mumbled, realizing she still needed to figure out what to do with the woman. "Excuse me," she muttered to Bishop, ducking away from his gaze. He rolled his eyes at her as she walked over to Shandra. Manners were wasted on him.

As Dilys discussed Shandra's situation, everyone and their mother seemed to want to add their opinion to the mix. Of course, Bishop and Casavir managed to turn even that into a fight; Casavir standing up for Shandra and Bishop wanting to dump her. Dilys found it ironic, considering the pass the ranger had made on her back at the githyanki caves. In the end though, Shandra had no where else to go, and they really did need her.

"The washroom is ready for you, Dilys, if everything is settled." Duncan said, after Shandra's fate had been decided.

"Wonderful," she replied breathily, standing up from her chair and stretching. "Bring out some wine Duncan, I'll be back in a bit."

"I suppose your safe return is cause for celebration, isn't it?" Duncan replied. Dilys responded only with a weary smile as she exited the room.

She slowly removed her half plate as she walked down the back hall to the washroom of the Sunken Flagon. The Luskan trip was an exhausting one, and far more complicated than she expected it would be. She suspected she was finally rid of the githyanki though, and with any luck, things might actually be easier from now on. But she had a funny feeling that luck was not on her side.

It never was.

She shook her head determinedly as she finally managed to pull off the armor. The bright red she saw on her chest made her stop in her tracks.

_Blood?_ There was a stain on the front of her undershirt, right beneath where her scar was. When that wretched Githyanki had tried to literally pull the shard out of her, the pain had been immense. But she didn't think she was wounded. Dilys quickly walked the rest of the way to the washroom and set the armor down near the door outside. Once inside with the door closed behind her, she unlaced her overshirt and pulled it off to inspect it.

The low-cut neckline of the blouse had avoided the area of the stain, but her undershirt was ruined. She pulled it off and threw it in the bin, before realizing it would be found if she left it there. Having someone think she was in some way wounded was the last thing she needed right now, so she fished it out of the garbage and set the shirts down on the edge of the basin to inspect her scar. It was covered in dried blood, but she could see no recent injury. But it _must_ have opened up. It was the only explanation for the blood.

Dilys splashed some water onto her chest to clean it up. She didn't use a washcloth because she didn't want to leave any blood behind for Duncan to fret over. Luckily there wasn't so much for it to leave behind traces in the water. Once all the blood was gone she ran her hand over the scar. It was still rough to the touch, but its usual discoloration had faded, leaving it less noticeable than before.

_How could it heal so quickly?_, she wondered to herself. She thought back to the reaction the two shards had on each other when Sand had tried to read them. She had an even larger collection now, and they must have been lending power to each other, effectually lending power to _her_. It was the only explanation she could reason.

Dilys let out a sigh. The danger of the enemy getting a hold of all the shards at once should she fall in battle was very real. But what had happened today was proof that keeping them all together might very well save her life, and leaving them at the Flagon wasn't exactly safe for Duncan. No, if someone came looking for the shards, she would be there to confront them, which meant keeping them on her at all times.

She reached for her shirts, and setting the blood stained one aside pulled on her blouse alone. The cut of the shirt had a much lower neckline than she was used to, and without her undershirt on underneath, it gave a spectacular view of her décolletage. She frowned and pulled the laces tighter to try to bring the neckline up a little, but all it did was accentuate her cleavage. She tsked in frustration and just resolved to try to dig up another shirt somewhere. Grabbing the ruined undershirt, she opened the door a tiny crack to check that the remaining bit of hallway leading to her room was unoccupied, so she opened it fully and stepped out.

"Nice to see you're making improvements on the outfit. Trying to catch my eye are you?"

Dilys mentally smacked her forehead when she realized that Bishop was leaning on the wall right across from the door. She shut it behind her and met his eyes. Or at least she _would_ have met his eyes if they weren't so firmly fixed on her chest. Her first thought was of her scar, a deep physical flaw she had always been sensitive enough about to keep covered up with high necklines. But then she suddenly remembered that it was significantly less conspicuous, making her realize, or perhaps hope, that he was probably just flat out ogling her. Ignoring the possibility that he could be gawking at her scar, she scoffed and rolled her eyes at him.

"Yes Bishop, your demeaning comments leave me nothing short of swooning. Clearly the only thing I could do was make my attire more revealing, hoping desperately to distract you from my allies so that only I can receive the benefit of your chauvinism." she spouted, not bothering to hide the tired disdain in her voice. She bent down to pick up her armor, unaware that the action gave Bishop a better view of the scenery. It also led his eyes to the blood stained shirt she was clutching and quickly tucked away in the folds of her armor to be hidden from view. When she straightened up again, his eyes were on hers.

"Do you need something?" she asked, anxious to get back to her room. He looked at her silently for a moment, as though he were trying to decide something.

"Actually I was just waiting to retrieve the washboard," he finally spoke with a knowing turn of the head. "I'm feeling adventurous." Dilys smiled slightly despite her exhaustion, then stopped and sighed instead.

"Look, you'd be far more effective at aggravating Duncan if he were actually here," she said, her tiredness catching up with her. Bishop furrowed his brow and pushed himself off the wall.

"And what makes you think I care about Duncan?" he asked, his voice sharp and his question pointed.

"It's obvious you two don't get on together," she said with a drained shrug. "And it's clear he doesn't want you to have anything to do with me. But just so you know, I only met Duncan a few months ago, so you won't be able to get to him through me." She gave a small defeated sort of smile. "A shame too, because I rather enjoy irritating him." Bishop narrowed his eyes and took a step towards her.

"What if I'd rather get to _you_?" he asked, something edged lingering on the borders of his voice. She frowned at him. She _was_ going to be ordering him around from now on, and if Bishop's reaction towards Duncan when he made him join her little party was any indication, he didn't like taking orders from anyone. Had he already set out to make her miserable for it?

"I think you'll find it won't be nearly as easy," she said, trusting in her own resolve. "It takes much more than following me around with lewd innuendo to get me to crack." He wordlessly stepped closer, a subtle glint in his eye that Dilys recognized. He had looked at her that way when she had chastised him for his vulgar suggestion to Shandra after her rescue. His response was to offer a suggestive comment for herself, and Dilys wasn't sure if his glare was meant to be threatening or seductive. She imagined that for Bishop, they were one and the same.

"I have… other methods," he replied. His voice was dangerously low.

"Of course. Discretion is the name of the game," Dilys said, feigning ignorance to change the subject. "Duncan told me what you do. Smuggling."

"Oh, he did, did he?" he asked, his face contorting into a scowl. "I'll have to have a little talk with Duncan then. And tell him the next time he opens his trap, I'm going to close it for him." Dilys wondered at the intensity of his reaction. Bishop obviously resented Duncan calling in his debt, and yet he offered to keep working with her group despite not needing to. Something was amiss.

"What does Duncan have over you anyway?" she asked, her confusion showing itself in her expression.

"Have over me?" he asked incredulously. "Come on, you can do better than that." He took a step back, giving her some space, but he didn't seem any less displeased. "But don't worry... I'll play along with your family blackmail for now." Dilys wasn't sure how to respond. He seemed to think she knew something that she didn't, and whatever it was, was most likely bad.

"Dilys!" Shandra called from the other end of the hall. Dilys instinctively brought her hand up to her chest to cover her scar, and tried to make it seem as if she was just playing with a loose thread at her collar. Shandra jogged over to where she and Bishop were standing to speak at a normal volume. "There's someone here to see you, says he has some pretty bad news. He looks important too. Your Uncle kept addressing him as 'Sir'." Dilys looked lost for a moment.

"Um, ok. Tell them I'll be right there. I need to go change my shirt first," she replied.

"Why?" Shandra asked. "What's wrong with what you have on?"

"It's uncomfortable," Dilys answered a little too quickly, bringing a slight blush to her cheeks. "Itchy material. And I need to take my armor to my room anyway," she added for good measure.

"Oh," Shandra muttered, figuring that was the reason Dilys kept fiddling with the collar of her blouse. "I'll let them know then, but I don't think you should keep him waiting." With that she turned around and walked back the way she came.

Dilys let her eyes fall to the floor, suddenly feeling very self conscious. She was mentally tired, physically exhausted, and emotionally drained. And Bishop was _still_ there, just watching her stand awkwardly in place. She released an inaudible sigh, and wordlessly turned to walk back to her room without meeting his eyes.

"It's not that noticeable, you know," Bishop said from behind her. His words were clear and deliberate, and there was no mistaking their meaning. "I rather _enjoyed_ the view." She stopped and stood still at his words, before looking at him over her shoulder. The glare she gave him was full of resentment, expressing that he was demeaning her by even talking about it. She was defining the rules of their interactions with her topaz eyes, silently threatening him to only tread so far before she clamped down, pulling rank or something equally degrading.

Judging from her reaction to Shandra, it was a line no one could cross. A barrier of space that she kept between herself and all other people, even if she was willing to play their games. Bishop was at the moment on her pleasant side, and while most people would want to keep it that way, he had every intention of testing her limits.

Dilys turned back around after the pregnant pause and walked to her room at the end of the hall. He watched her disappear behind the door, closing it shut softly behind her. Bishop smirked to himself, laughing at a joke that only he was in on, before turning around and walking back to the tavern.

* * *

><p>Dilys sighed in frustration before sitting up and reaching for her boots at the foot of the bed. She had given up on slumber long ago, as her mind kept racing with the thoughts of Ember. To be accused of slaughtering an entire village sent a shudder up her spine. What would have happened if she had been there? Would she be able to fight back the attackers, or would she be massacred along with the rest of them? Whether a farmer or a fighter, a person would always bleed when cut.<p>

And yet she couldn't help but remember how the villagers had hid in their houses, hoping that the enemy would just go away before her group had come along. Did they even try to fight their would-be executioners? Or did they just surrender their lives to the mercy of a quick death? Dilys felt her stomach swirl as she realized she was placing blame on the dead.

"They might as well give me the guilty verdict anyway," she mumbled in the dark. She shook her head angrily at the thought, and placed her sticks in her hair. She could never have killed those people. Now all she had to do was prove it.

Strolling out of her room in nothing but her boots and nightshirt, she wandered aimlessly down the hall. She didn't really know where she was going, but she also knew it made no difference. As long as she got a change of scenery from watching the moonlight crawl across her bedroom floor she was satisfied.

She noted each of her companions' bedroom doors as she passed them. Shandra and Neeshka's… Khelgar and Sand's… The nearby washroom and a few more rooms occupied by the Flagon's guests... And Bishop's at the end of the hall opposite of her own. She turned the corner idly, finding the rest of the doors. Casavir and Grobnar's… Another set of guest rooms along with some left empty... And Elanee and Qara's nearest to the exit.

Dilys wondered how much she and her group were costing Duncan; they were taking up quite a bit of space that he could be selling to customers. Not to mention the copious amounts of ale consumed by just Khelgar, let alone the rest of her companions. She would have to figure a way to pay him back someday, though the adventuring life didn't exactly leave them rolling in the coppers.

Dilys stepped out into the tavern, finding it just as dark and empty as the hallways. She didn't want to go back to her room yet, but she didn't want to lounge around in the tavern either. Dilys gave a meandering glance to the front door. She imagined she would get some pretty odd looks from members of the Watch if she were to wander the streets of Neverwinter in only a nightshirt. But there _was_ a nice little copse of trees behind the Flagon where she wouldn't be readily visible. It was a nice place for a little stroll. She pulled open the heavy door of the building and slipped out as quietly as she could.

The moon was full, or near it, and the places that lamps didn't reach were bathed in its silvery light. Dilys slipped around to the back of the building, pausing at the edge of the small grove. She breathed in the faint scent of moss, feeling slightly at ease with the small reminder of home. She ventured inward towards the thicket, but froze when she saw him. There, perched on a fallen log not thirty feet away, was Bishop, joined by a large gray wolf. The creature was sitting next to him complacently, seemingly taking in the scenery as the man stroked its thick mane.

Dilys leaned behind a tree and gazed out at the image of camaraderie before her. It was amazing how calm they both were, as she had never seen a wild animal in a moment of tranquility. Bishop as well had never seemed to be at peace, mostly because he was always busy stirring things up, offending as many people as he could.

She smiled secretively at the scene of him petting the big animal. She supposed there was two sides of the coin to everyone, and Bishop was no exception. Dealing with Bishop was near impossible for the average person, but a feral beast seemed to be rather enjoying his company, proving that it was not beyond reason.

She wondered what it would take to get him to be civil with her as he was with his wolf. The image of her sitting on the forest floor on her haunches with Bishop petting her like a dog popped into her head. Maybe if she let him touch her hair he would be a bit kinder. Dilys snickered at the thought. Somehow she doubted that a few innocent pets were enough to satisfy him. Unfortunately she saw the wolf's ears twitch at the sound of her laugh, and she froze in place.

Dilys stood stock still for a long moment, hugging the tree to try to blend her shape with its own. A long enough amount of time had gone by for her to feel sure that the wolf wasn't going to come over and investigate her, so she pulled back a bit. The scene between Bishop and his animal companion had not changed.

Dilys breathed a quiet sigh of relief, but she knew it would be foolish to stay there any longer. As quietly as she could, she turned around and tiptoed back to the Sunken Flagon. The tense moment she spent trying to conceal herself allowed her exhaustion to finally catch up with her, and she was ready to return to her bed.

Bishop had noticed Karnwyr's ear twitch as he sat in quiet reverie with the canine. The wolf didn't growl or even bother to look, so he assumed it was nothing of consequence. He did concentrate on the sounds around him for the next few minutes however. After a short amount of time, he thought he heard something that sounded very much like a feminine sigh. His curiosity piqued, he waited for a few moments before chancing a look behind him. What he saw was a rather interesting sight.

In nothing but a wonderfully short nightshirt and a pair of boots, Dilys was trying very hard to sneak away without being heard. Her appearance made her perhaps the worst candidate possible for sneaking around at night. Her platinum hair was unusually shiny in the moonlight, and the pale skin of her long legs stood out plainly against the dark backdrop of the trees. Her efforts to be unheard made her movements exaggerated, and she looked quite ridiculous.

Bishop briefly toyed with the idea of waltzing over and enlightening her in the ways of sneaking, or maybe just commenting on her leggy attire, but didn't really feel like making the effort at the moment. He turned back around and returned his attentions to Karnwyr, confident that he would just find some other occasion to catch her in her nightshirt to make use of.

Until then, he'd just enjoy the scenery.

* * *

><p>I didn't even know Karnwyr existed the first time I played the game, because I never fiddled around with Bishop's spells. I think a later patch had him auto-summon the wolf instead of going to waste. That would have been a big help the first time around...<p>

And of course, reviews are welcome, good or bad. I crave them like candy.


	4. Maneuverability

Dilys skirted around a large puddle in the middle of the lane with her companions in tow. The little pool of water seemed to characterize Port Llast in all its rustic glory: self contained, teeming with life, and giving off a strong stench of stagnant water. In truth the smell didn't bother Dilys all that much. The waters surrounding West Harbor were far more potent. Sand on the other hand felt much disdain for the rural air of the town, and seemed to rather enjoy ranting on the subject. Shandra, ever the farm girl, didn't fail to defend the provincial nature of the large village. Casavir was busy keeping his mouth shut as usual, while Bishop just seemed to be waiting for the chance to open his.

Dilys led her group down one of the side streets to where the more specialized vendors sold their wares. They approached Nya's booth, and Dilys stepped forward to issue a greeting. "I did as you asked Nya," she said. "The wyrmsage has been put to use." The older woman relaxed visibly at her proclamation, almost appearing to grow younger from her relief.

"Then the people of Ember will rest in peace," she said, taking Dilys's hands in hers. "You have a good heart, and I thank you." Nya averted her eyes in thought for a moment, before bringing her hand up to the amulet that hung from her neck. "I've kept this amulet all these years," she said, pulling the chain off over her head. "It belonged to my love, but I think it will suit you well." She placed the amulet delicately into Dilys's palm and closed her hand around it.

Casavir muttered in a reverent tone from Dilys's side, "That is a great gift. With it, she gives you her heart..." He caught her golden glance and held her stare. "And hope." Dilys opened her fingers and returned her gaze to the amulet in her hand, a muddled look clouding her features.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she said to Casavir, turning her face back to him. "It's just a necklace." A slight frown twitched at the corners of his mouth at her question.

"Such a thing should be respected," he replied in a stern tone. "It has much of herself invested in it." Bishop snorted behind him, catching the attention of everyone in the party as they turned towards him.

"Beware a woman bearing gifts," he drawled, directing his attention to Dilys. "Taking one is like carrying a brand." Dilys furrowed her brow at their conflicting advice.

"And what difference should it make?" she asked Bishop.

"It doesn't. Not to me anyway, and it shouldn't to you either." He fixed his eyes on hers in an arresting stare. "The fact that you _don't_ form attachments is what interests me." Dilys rolled her eyes at his last statement.

"Oh please. I can be a sentimentalist just as much as the next person. _Everyone_ forms attachments." She cocked her head in a weary manner. "Even you." Bishop moved closer to her, brushing Shandra to the side out of the way, eliciting an unacknowledged glare from her.

"Oh really?" he asked bitingly. "And what ever gave you that idea?" Dilys stood her ground, unfazed by his attempt to intimidate her.

"Well you seemed awfully pleased to get your knife back from Marcus," she replied with a knowing raise of the brow. "Not to mention…" She trailed off and brought her hands up behind her head to form a pair of wolf ears with her fingers. Bishop narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin, apparently getting the message. Sand briefly wondered if they were involved in some sort of bizarre roleplay.

"But that's beside the point," Dilys continued, turning away from Bishop. "I understand how items can have sentimental value, but that value doesn't get transferred to me." Casavir deepened his frown.

"If gold is all you see when you gaze upon such a thing, then you are blind," he replied, disappointment tinting his features.

"I'm not saying it's _worthless_," Dilys proclaimed with exasperation. "I'm just saying it's worth more to Nya than it could ever be to me." She shook her head angrily before turning back to the merchant. "Here," she said, returning her the amulet. "I think it's best if you keep it. I know how much it means to you, and I don't want to take that away."

"I don't have anything else to give you," Nya said, unsure whether to be hurt or grateful at Dilys's rejection of her gift.

"You don't have to give me anything," the Aasimar replied. "Knowing that zombies won't be plaguing the area anytime soon is reward enough for me." With a final smile, she turned and led her group back to the main street, wary of their grumbles.

"You should not have given the amulet back to her," Casavir said, preferring to accept an honorable gift.

"If only to sell it," Bishop added. His agreement was aimed to disagree.

"It would have been worth a look to check for magical properties," Sand muttered dryly.

"I would have worn it if you didn't want it," Shandra chimed in. "It was kind of nice." Dilys threw her hands up in frustration without bothering to turn around.

"Oh good, I've displeased _everyone_," she uttered sarcastically. "My work here is done."

"I do _hope_ that's not your aim on the day of the trial," Sand remarked. "I think you'll find the consequences rather opposed to your favor." Dilys responded with a tired sigh.

"We do need to discuss our strategy, Sand. Let's take a break," she said, nodding her head in the direction of the local tavern.

The tavern had a wonderful smoky smell of dried jerky and ale, and was lit to match. Dilys scanned the room for a good place for them to discuss, then practically squealed when she saw the unoccupied spot. Most of the patrons were gathered around the fireplace or bar, and the light didn't quite provide enough illumination for the longtable in the corner. It was isolated enough that they could speak at a normal volume and remain unheard, and there was enough room at the table for them all to sit, as well as a few chairs on the wall perpendicular. What really put the grin on Dilys's face however, was the unused chess set sitting idly at the wall-side edge of the table.

"Care for a game of chess Sand?" she asked with a sly grin. She caught the elf's curious glance and issued a challenge with her stare.

"I didn't realize they played the game in the backwater marshes of the Mere," he replied. "Or do you expect me to teach you?" Dilys smirked at his ever-present sense of superiority before shaking her head knowingly.

"Don't worry, I've played a couple of games before," she said taking a seat on the end of the bench in front of the board. "We can discuss courtroom etiquette in between moves." Sand eyed her warily, curious as to whether she actually knew how to play or was just trying to take her mind off of the situation at hand. Though as he considered the simple chess board sitting innocently on the table, he had to admit that he certainly wouldn't mind forgetting that he was in Port Llast either.

"Very well," he replied, sitting down on the opposite bench with his back to the wall. "But keep in mind that loosing at chess doesn't necessarily mean you'll loose at the trial either."

"Maybe I'll get lucky and win at both," she muttered with a smile, already contemplating the board. Shandra took a seat next to Dilys on the bench, to watch the game while Casavir sat opposite her next to Sand. Bishop stood behind the table for a moment before sitting on one of the chairs against the wall. He set his equipment down on the floor next to him and began fletching arrows, occasionally glancing up at the game with mild interest.

The game got started quickly, with the initial moves being fast and precise, clearing a few pawns from the board. Shandra soon lost interest after a while and rested her head on the table to doze. Once Casavir realized that they wouldn't be discussing battle strategy he stood up from the table to gather refreshments.

"We should follow every lead and gather as much evidence as possible," Sand said, a smile creeping into his liquid blue eyes as he found an advantageous move on the board. She had left one of her knights wide open. He discreetly moved his rook into place as he continued with his advice. "If you don't watch your footing, you could fall right into Luskan's hands and onto the chopping block."

Dilys muttered an affirmative before moving her bishop out to take the offending rook. Sand narrowed his eyes as she claimed the chess piece from the board. He hadn't even noticed the bishop sitting in its corner, unmoved from the start of the game. Sand leaned back in his chair and placed a hand on his chin. A small appreciative smile formed on his face as he looked back up to Dilys.

"I hope you don't think you can win the game because of one mistake on my part." Dilys simply looked back at him with a calculating stare. She knew that he would underestimate her, giving her the opportunity to take him by surprise. But now that he knew she was capable of actually playing the game, he would take her seriously and use the full force of his intellect. The game was about to become much more brutal.

Maneuverability was integral now. The key to survival was to think ahead and not get backed into a corner. This held true for chess and for the trial. They were both just complicated games, and predicting the enemy's moves as well as planning your own was essential.

"You really should use your knights more," Sand suggested. "They're a more effective piece than you realize and you would do well to use all of your pieces to their full potential."

"Hmm, too rigid," Dilys mused. "I prefer the pieces with a longer range." She moved the queen to the other side of the board to take an unguarded pawn in demonstration.

"Just another advantage for me to use the bow," Bishop muttered from off to the side. Dilys shot him a dubious smirk before returning her attention to the game.

"The queen can't do everything you know," Sand said to Dilys. "If you loose that piece you'll be in trouble." Dilys looked from her queen to the other pieces, formulating a quick strategy.

"Good point," she replied, and brought her knight out into the open, only to have it immediately taken by Sand's remaining rook. Her queen was then brought back from the edge of the board to claim the rook. Sand cocked an eyebrow at her strategy.

"Sacrificing a weaker piece to give an advantage to your primary pieces? You don't view your companions as so expendable I hope," Sand said, casually baiting the Aasimar. "Game strategy doesn't effectively translate over into real life in that regard."

"It's only a game Sand," Dilys chuckled lightly. "Don't read too much into it." Sand smirked before looking back down at the pieces.

"Then how do you intend to maneuver around this little trap Luskan has so generously laid out for you?" he asked.

"Just as you said, gather as much evidence as possible," she replied. "As for the courtroom… I was thinking of casually mentioning a little bit of Luskan's violent past. The facts speak for themselves, and I'd like to remind the good citizens of Neverwinter just who is making these accusations."

"That may suffice," Sand replied slowly, making a move with his bishop. "But do not get carried away, or it may appear that you're trying to spark another war. Be subtle yet clear, and you will be able to plant the seed of doubt into the minds of everyone in the court. How much drama do plan on bringing to the trial?"

"I'm not exactly a seasoned performer," Dilys answered with a sarcastic smile, moving her queen to take the bishop. "So I plan on just being honest and watching my phrasing carefully. I at least know how to hold my own in an argument, and I can talk in circles if I have to."

"If you're confident in your abilities then I'll not stand in your way. But you should always be wary of the enemy's movements." Sand moved his queen into place. "Check."

Dilys did a double take at the board. In moving her queen out to intercept the offending bishop, she had left her king defenseless. It wasn't a checkmate yet, but it certainly made things more difficult. She should have been paying more attention and not allowed herself to get distracted. That was certainly a tactic that the Luskans would use in the trial.

Dilys paused from the game momentarily at the sound of soft feet _not_ wearing armored boots heading in her direction. She turned her head slightly to spy a slender woman with russet hair approaching their isolated little corner. From the shape of her ears, Dilys would have guessed she had mixed heritage, and the look on her face was that of a woman on a mission. Bishop glanced up from his arrow work at the sound of her footfalls, and his face gained an expression of extreme displeasure when he caught sight of her.

"Ah, Malin," he said, leaning back on his chair and crossing his arms in open contempt. "Still playing girl-of-the-wood?"

"Bishop." She spoke his name as if it was a curse and came to a stop beside their table to stand in front of the surly ranger. "I was wondering when you'd drag your sorry carcass back to Port Llast."

"You waited for me... I'm touched." Bishop stood up from his chair, and made to leave. "Then again, it's not like you could have tracked me down if you wanted to."

Dilys curiously observed the exchange before her, practically tasting the palpable tension between the two people. An uneasy atmosphere fell on the rest of the table, and Dilys saw Shandra shift uncomfortably out of the corner of her eye. It was difficult enough tolerating Bishop when he was in a good mood, having some random person coming along to try to start something would make him unbearable.

Dilys wondered if she should say something to clear the air. The most immediate thing she could think of was to clear her throat loudly and in a rather unattractive manner. The grating sound seemed to get their attention however, and Malin turned to her expectantly.

"He's with us," Dilys said gravely, turning away from her game to look straight into the woman's eyes. She hoped she was getting the message across without being too unpleasant. Namely, that if she had a problem with Bishop, she had a problem with Dilys as well. Malin crossed her arms and shifted her weight onto one foot, apparently not appreciative of Dilys's little hint.

"Who's your new mistress, Bishop?" she asked turning back to him. "I didn't think any woman could break you. But maybe you were lying about that, too."

A sinister grin spread across Bishop's features at her sour response. He casually sauntered over to the bench where Dilys was sitting and slipped onto the edge next to her. He sat hip to hip with Dilys, folding his arms over the table as he leaned a little too close for comfort.

"And maybe you just couldn't handle me," Bishop said spitefully, glaring at Malin from Dilys's side. "But enough about ancient history, I don't think I've properly introduced the two of you." He turned to face Dilys, catching the uncomfortable glances from everyone at the table before speaking in a loud, insulting tone.

"This half-elf slip of a girl here nearly got me, and herself, killed several times over while scouting the Luskan border. Too impatient and incompetent to function as a proper ranger…" He turned back to Malin to drive the point home. "That's the trouble when you're not fully human. It's like you've always got something to prove."

Dilys felt her ears burn with annoyance. She wasn't fully human herself, and Bishop knew it. Was he sitting so close to her and saying such insults to taunt _both_ of them? Dilys was beginning to sympathize with Malin. Whatever Bishop did to earn this woman's ire, he certainly wasn't trying to make amends for.

"Well it's a good thing I have you instead of her, then," Dilys muttered in agitation, staring hard at the chess board in front of her. Bishop cocked an eyebrow at her irritated countenance when he turned to face her.

"My thought exactly," he whispered cruelly. Dilys put both her hands flat on the table and sighed roughly.

"I'm sorry Malin, how do you know Bishop?" she asked, trying to keep her appearance unflustered.

"Oh, this should be rich," Bishop drawled. "Go on, Malin, tell all."

"Not while he's here," Malin said, matching Dilys's frustration easily. "I can barely stomach the smell as it is."

"Then, why _are_ you here?" Dilys asked, being unintentionally rude as her temper rose.

"I don't know, really. It was a mistake," Malin said. "One I intend to rectify right now." With that she turned on her heel and stalked off towards the exit, leaving the table decidedly more uneasy than when she arrived. Bishop smirked with satisfaction at the exchange as he turned and regarded Dilys with an appraising look.

"You know, I'm quite comfortable here," he said, inching his arm ever so slightly closer to hers.

"Try it," Dilys flatly threatened. "See what happens." Bishop chuckled darkly as he rose from the bench to return to his chair.

"Careful," he warned. "I might just take you up on that." She gave him an exasperated glare for a moment before turning back to her chess game. She couldn't even remember what the last move on the board was.

"Bishop certainly has a way with the ladies, doesn't he?" Sand mused under his breath. Dilys gave a laughing scoff in response.

"Whose turn was it?" she asked, brushing a loose lock of hair behind her ear. Sand cocked an eyebrow at her as she stared absentmindedly at the board. "You know what, never mind," she muttered after a moment. "I'll be right back." She stood to leave, giving Sand a curt nod before excusing herself.

Dilys jogged out of the tavern into the bright daylight, causing her to squint. Placing a hand above her eyes to serve as a visor, she scanned the crowd of market goers for the indignant half-elf. It wasn't long before she spotted her stocking up on supplies at a local vendor.

"Malin!" Dilys called out to her. She turned her head at the sound of her name, and looked displeased to see the Aasimar jogging up to her. Malin gestured to a small alcove in the shade to get the woman to meet her over there. Dilys approached her and fiddled with her hair awkwardly as she tried to think of what to say.

"I'd like to apologize for the little incident in there," Dilys said clumsily. "Bishop tends to bring out the worst in me."

"He brings out the worst in most people," Malin replied with a little hesitancy. She never expected anyone who willingly shared Bishop's company to be _cordial_. "But I have a question for you. Why is he with you? Loyalty isn't high on Bishop's list, and he doesn't help _anyone_."

"Uh," Dilys paused, brushing her hair behind her ear. She wasn't prepared for such a direct question. "Well, he's a really good ally in a fight, and I tend to get in a lot of them."

"Bishop doesn't _have_ allies," Malin scoffed. "Only tools. But that doesn't answer my question. What prompted him to join you?"

"Oh," Dilys muttered. "He helped us get through the Luskan border so we could rescue a friend."

"Ah…" Malin said, recognition dawning on her face. "Luskans. Bishop hates them. It's the only genuine emotion I've ever seen from him."

"I'm not too fond of them either," Dilys said under her breath, her mind flickering back to the carnage at Ember. "Every Luskan I've come across has tried to kill me."

"Even so," she countered. "The things he did to them at the border were…" Malin trailed off, a haunted look lingering in her eyes.

"They'd do the same to him I imagine," Dilys replied casually. "I'm not too sure I'd be able to show too much restraint if I were to find some Luskan smuggler sneaking into Neverwinter territory." Malin shook her head angrily.

"There's no point in sympathizing with him, trust me," she said, trying to get the platinum haired woman before her to see the light. "You're just setting yourself up to be hurt. He hates everyone, and hates being in anyone's debt. You can defend him all you want, but you're only going to drive him away."

"I'm not involved with him, if that's what you're worried about," Dilys said, wondering if perhaps Malin was simply fighting an old flame. The half-elf just laughed bitterly.

"It's not myself that I'm worried about. I was smart enough to get away with my life intact. I'm free of him." Malin paused, attempting to see why this woman would keep such a despicable man in her life. "But he is good in a fight, I'll give him that," she admitted. "Just... just don't turn your back on him, all right?" Dilys shrugged in response.

"Bishop can be incredibly offensive sometimes, and I certainly don't see eye to eye with him on many things," she conceded. "But he hasn't given me any reason not to trust him, just as I trust all of my companions."

"You don't get it," Malin sighed in resignation. "By saying that, he's already got you. Until he's finished with you." She adjusted the bag on her shoulder, signaling that she was leaving. "Just be more careful than I was. Bishop doesn't serve anyone but himself, that's just who he is."

As Dilys watched the woman walk away, she considered what she had said. Malin made it seem as if Bishop was some sort of hell spawn. As far as she could tell though, he was just an ass. He seemed to want to come along though, so if he had a problem with her he could just leave. Dilys considered asking him about it, but the chances that she would get a straight answer were slim.

In the end she decided she already had enough to worry about. He was a good tracker and a good fighter, and she had already decided to put up with his attitude. There was no point in really dwelling on it. After all, what reason could Bishop have to want to hurt her?

* * *

><p><strong>Some of the in game dialog didn't even need voice over for it to leave an impression. Thanks very much to those who reviewed!<strong>


	5. The Hunt Is On

As the moon struggled to part the clouds above the still waters of Blacklake, a single figure disrupted the sky's calm reflection on the black surface. Dilys backstroked lazily through the water for a bit, sighing contentedly. The night was _just_ dark enough to keep anyone from seeing her through the water, and she could easily maneuver without fumbling around blindly. It was a rare moment of peace to let her worries wash away with the slow moving currents and just relax.

She dived down into the dark water, imagining herself as a fish as she swam around the lake. A fish wouldn't have to worry about silver shards or shadow kings; just swimming along through the water looking for its next meal.

She gave a sigh when she surfaced again. Sure, she wouldn't have too many problems as a fish, but she also wouldn't be able to accomplish any goals or gather a group of companions for support. No, if she were to be honest with herself she actually had found a modest amount of happiness along this journey, despite the constant threat of death. And a part of her didn't want it to end, lest she loose her odd collection of fellow misfits.

Dilys paddled about a bit, idly scanning the banks of the lake for the jetty where she left her belongings to be sure they were safe. When she found the outcropping of rocks, she was dismayed to also see a figure sitting cross-legged on top of it. It was too dark to make out who it was, but the form was most certainly masculine. There was a very real possibility that it was some stranger who enjoyed spying on women swimming naked at night, though she had a strong suspicion that it was a much more familiar person.

Pulling her long hair forward so that it curtained over her chest, she swam slowly over to the shallows, making sure her body from the neck down remained in the water. She became quietly incensed as she saw that not only did he have the gall to blatantly watch her, but he also seemed to be holding her cloak captive. She came to a halt before the jetty and waited expectantly.

"It's dangerous for a woman to be swimming alone at night you know," Bishop said, offering her a spicy stare. "A man might take you for a water nymph and jump in after you." Dilys kept a stern face, eyeing the cloak that he had tucked in his lap. He knew very well that she couldn't get out of the water without it.

"Well it's a good thing I have you here to watch over me then," she seethed. "My cloak, if you please," she said, sticking an expectant hand out of the water.

"Now now," he began, a rapacious smile creeping across his lips. "You'll get your cloak all wet if I gave it to you down there. You should come out of the water and let me dry you off."

"Bishop!" Dilys yelled, her voice ringing off the surrounding stone as her patience evaporated. She moved a little closer to the rocks. "If you don't give me my cloak right now I'll-"

"You'll what?" he asked, climbing to his feet and peering down at her in the water. "You'll wait until I get bored and hand it over?" He gave her a feral grin. "I've waited days out in the wild for a beast to leave its den. But with you, I only have to wait until morning. That is, unless you _want_ all of Blacklake to see you in your birthday suit." He stepped over to the edge of the jetty, craning his neck to try to see beneath the water's surface. "I think you'll find my patience is-"

His sentence was cut short when Dilys grabbed him by his boot and pulled him into the water, bringing her cloak with him. He smacked into the water with a resounding splash, and Dilys backed away into slightly deeper waters, unable to retrieve her cloak from his grasp.

Bishop stood up in the water, frowning to see he was submerged up to his waist. He raised his elbows and shook the water out of his spaulders and gauntlets, then paused mid-motion. He lifted his eyes towards Dilys, and she watched his glare shift from one of inconvenience to completely and utterly predatory.

"Hmm," he said, lowering his arms and beginning a slow march towards her. "It seems instead of standing before me naked on dry land, you'd rather stand before me naked in the water." She clasped her arms across her chest and backed away from him at the same pace he was advancing. She soon backed into the edge of the rocky sandbar however, and was unable to move any further without having to spread her arms out to tread water.

"Now no one can see me taking advantage of you," he stated, quickly closing the gap between them. "_And_ I have the added ability to dunk you under water if you try to object."

Dilys regarded him warily. She knew him to be an indomitable bastard, but he wouldn't go _that _far… Would he? He stopped before her and looked down at her insatiably.

"That was very considerate of you," he purred, standing much too close for comfort. She couldn't help the shade of red her face was quickly turning.

"Please hand me my cloak," Dilys ground out coyly, unable to maintain eye contact.

"I'd rather not," he replied, his voice dark and velvety. "I may not be able to see you through the black water, but…" He ran a single finger up along her bare hip. "I can still _feel_ you." She snapped her head up at the touch and clenched her jaw. She may have been uncomfortable, but she refused to be so thoroughly disrespected.

"Then what are you waiting for Bishop?" she spat. "Take me." Her suddenly brash anger caused him to balk.

"Go on!" she shouted, taking her hands and shoving him back by the chest. "Own up to your threats! Have your way with me!" Bishop was prompted to back away further without needing to be shoved, and she advanced on him as he did on her mere moments ago.

"Do it Bishop!" she barked. "Ravage me! See if you can try to touch me again without having your arm broken several times!" She kept her arms across her chest as she backed him into the shallows, not willing to shrink down to the water level in her anger.

Bishop felt his back press up against the rocks of the jetty, unable to move any further. He stared her down as he waited for her anger to subside, a little enthralled by her fierce reaction. She was practically snarling when she halted in front of him.

"You're just a villain," she growled quietly, breathing heavily with her seething anger.

"Good thing you're no damsel in distress then," Bishop replied, his face betraying no emotion whatsoever. "Else you might have cause to worry."

Dilys stared into his eyes for a long moment, trying to comprehend what sort of twisted logic ruled his thoughts. Keeping one arm strategically wrapped around her chest, and allowing her hair to further protect her modesty, she snatched her cloak away from him with a scowl. Wrapping the soaked cloak about her, she climbed out of the water onto the jetty behind him. The sopping garment clung closely to her skin, and Bishop was treated to a view that left little to the imagination before she stood to dress.

Dilys sighed impatiently as she gathered her clothes. The sooner she got back to the Flagon, the better. She kept her back to the lake as she bent to pull on her trousers, and felt her shoulders tense when she heard him climbing out of the water behind her. She was fairly certain she got her point across through her incensed rampage, so she didn't let his presence distract her. Once her trousers were laced up, she moved to retrieve her boots, but paused at the sound of shuffling leather.

She debated even chancing a look in Bishop's direction, lest he get the impression that she was no longer angry at him, but her curiosity eventually got the best of her. She stole a furtive glance at him from over her shoulder, doing a double take when she noticed he was undressing.

"What are you doing?" she blurted out in spite of herself. He had already stripped of his equipment and supplemental armor, and was well on his way of removing his leather tunic. Quirking an eyebrow at her interest, he pulled off the leather armor before he spoke.

"Your little deflection was a much more _vigorous_ response than your usual behavior," he replied, pausing to pull off his thin shirt. "I can only assume that your bath is responsible for that added vitality, so I figured I would give it a try."

Dilys knew he probably had some sort of hidden agenda, or that he was just trying to save face after she had so thoroughly torn into him. Either way, it was a little difficult to think with a clear view of Bishop's well toned abdominal muscles. He wasn't equipped with an overly burly body, but rather an athletic figure that appeared both fast _and_ strong.

Noticing that she had let her gaze linger for far too long, she tore her eyes away from him and turned back around to put her boots back on with a scoff. She was supposed to be mad at him, not drooling over him. Her annoyance that she had to end her swim prematurely was enough to refresh her anger. She heard the splash as Bishop jumped into the water, resuming what was supposed to be _her_ moment of reprieve.

She stopped halfway through buckling her second boot as she considered the recent turn of events. Why was she letting him chase her away? She wasn't afraid of him, and she most certainly wasn't going to let him bully her out of what should have been a perfect evening. Her indignation outweighing her common sense, she stood up and swung herself around, tightening the still sopping cloak about her torso.

"Hey!" she yelled to the shadow swimming along beneath the silvery reflection of the cloudy sky. After a few seconds, Bishop surfaced at the sound of her voice, standing in a manner that made his impatience obvious.

"I thought you'd be stomping back to the Flagon in fury by now," he said, leaning backwards and drifting slowly away from the lake's edge. Dilys glowered at him and put her free hand on her hip in defiance.

"I was about to, before I realized I wasn't ready to stop swimming yet," she replied.

"Oh? You're planning on joining me then?" he shot back lazily, knowing full well where the conversation was headed and in no particular hurry to get there.

"Actually I was going to tell you to get out and wait your turn so that I could finish up."

"_You're_ the one who chose to get out of the water," Bishop drawled. "I didn't force you to do anything."

"Well I'm getting back _in_ the water whether you like it or not," she huffed.

"You're just going to have to join me then, because I'm not going anywhere," he replied. Dilys was quiet for a moment, weighing her options. She knew Bishop wasn't going to give in, but she had something to prove. What that was exactly, she didn't know, but there was no way she could back down now.

"Perhaps I will," Dilys mused.

"Oh?" Bishop asked, lazily raising one eyebrow. "After my behavior that so clearly infuriated you drove you out of the water in the first place, you're going to take the chance that I won't do anything inappropriate to you?"

"I don't believe you would," she said.

"Then you're a bigger fool than I thought," he replied, swimming further away from where she was standing.

"No, I'm just confident in my own ability to defend myself," Dilys said, putting a hand on her hip.

"If you say so," he replied, seemingly having lost interest in the conversation. Dilys paused, watching him swim about contentedly in the water. She wanted that, dammit. The swimming around part, not the naked Bishop, she mentally clarified.

"Turn around," she said eventually.

"Now why would I do that?" he asked.

"Because I'll hurt you if you see my in all my glory," was her response.

"Heh, I don't know," he replied with an absolutely sinful grin. "It may be worth it."

"Not with the kind of pain I'll give you," she countered, feeling her patience wearing thin.

"Fine," he answered rolling his eyes and finally turning his back to her. Keeping her cloak wrapped around her for as long as possible, she removed the clothing she had just put on and set them on a dry patch of stone. Dilys hesitated for a moment before she tossed aside her cloak and jumped into the water in one hurried movement. When she surfaced she saw that Bishop had turned around at the sound of her splash.

"So..." he mused, swimming up to her languorously. "Shall we play blind man tag?" Dilys splashed water at him, completely bewildered by his gumption.

"And give you free reign to grope me? No thanks," she replied, backing away from him. "I'll just swim over here on this side and you can swim over there. That way we won't bother each other."

"I hadn't realized you were so antisocial," he prodded.

"Keeping your company hardly counts as being sociable Bishop," she countered, turning around and paddling further away. He merely smirked at her comment, and floated contentedly towards the middle of the lake.

Dilys was very aware of just how dark the water was. With the night hiding her form, she felt safe to swim unexposed. But one of the inherited advantages she had from her diluted Aasimar blood, a trait that she was careful to conceal, was her ability to see in the dark. Try as he might, she knew that Bishop was unable to see her in the black water, but she was most certainly able to see him. Dilys smiled to herself, suddenly strangely satisfied to have Bishop intruding upon her alone time. Unable to fight her curiosity, Dilys dove underwater and opened her eyes, making sure she got a good look...

* * *

><p>"You're still in bed?" Shandra remarked, barging into Dilys's bedroom and flinging open the curtains by the window. "It's nearly midday, I thought you were always up before dawn."<p>

"I was," Dilys murmured as she stretched and rolled out of bed. "I just didn't get any sleep until after the sunrise."

"Rough night?" Shandra asked, turning around so Dilys could get dressed.

"Not really," she replied, her voice coming out muffled as she pulled a tunic on over her head. "I just didn't feel like sleeping until it was almost daybreak."

"And so you just lay in bed waiting to feel tired?" Shandra speculated.

"No, I managed to keep myself entertained," she answered, finishing getting dressed. The two women left the bedroom and continued the conversation as they walked down the hall towards the tavern. "Besides, with the trial coming up soon I don't have any free time at all during the day. I feel like I'm wasting it at night just sleeping and not taking advantage of that time." Dilys said.

"But aren't you exhausted by the end of the day?" Shandra asked. "Aside from all the walking, we usually run into trouble and end up having to fight something. I can barely make it back to my room before I pass out from fatigue."

"Hm, that's a good question actually," Dilys uttered as they entered the tavern and found seats at a table near the fireplace. "In the militia back in West Harbor, we frequently had long grueling days to deal with, but I would still get my fill of sleep every night."

"Do you think you might be ill?" Shandra asked. "I heard stories of people in Highcliff that had trouble sleeping, right before they came up with some terrible symptom that struck them dead."

"You're such an optimist Shandra," Dilys drawled, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.

"I'm just saying," she said, leaning forward over the table to make up the distance. "That if you've never behaved this way before that there might be something else causing it."

"Good point," Dilys replied. "But... I feel like I have more vigor, not less." Her mind wandered back to the silver shards and their hidden power. She already suspected they made her heal more effectively, could they be giving her more energy too?

"Really?" Shandra mused skeptically. "If not from the fighting and wandering around all day long, I thought you would at least be tired out from dealing with your teammates."

"Whatever do you mean?" Dilys asked with feigned innocence, brought back to the present by Shandra's comment.

"We're not the easiest bunch to work with," she replied. "Khelgar and Neeshka always bickering, Qara wanting to set something on fire, and Bishop just being Bishop."

"Oh Bishop's not so bad, his body more than makes up for his foul mouth," Dilys joked with a smirk, letting the phrase slip out before realizing the implications.

"How can you tell through all that leather armor?" Shandra asked. "It's not exactly form fitting." Dilys felt the smile on her face dissolve like sugar in water.

"I uh, I've seen him without it," Dilys replied, trying to keep her voice casual.

"I beg your pardon? When has Bishop ever been wandering around unclothed?" Shandra's voice was getting uneven. There was no way around it, and Dilys knew it. Shandra was going to keep asking questions until she knew all about her rendezvous in Blacklake. Dilys took a deep breath before speaking.

"I was swimming with him in Blacklake last night," she said amiably. Maybe if she played it off as a joke Shandra wouldn't give her so much grief.

Sandra gave a nervous laugh. She clearly didn't find it funny and searched Dilys's face for evidence of whether she was truly joking or not. Dilys decided to clue her in and gave her a tiny accommodating nod.

"You're serious?" Shandra practically yelled, her voice rising in pitch.

"Shhhh. Not so loud," Dilys hissed, leaning in over the table to keep their conversation discreet. "I know I have incredibly poor judgment when it comes to dealing with men, but no one _else_ needs to know that."

"I don't get how you can even stand to be around him, let alone… Ugh." Shandra shuddered, "I don't even want to finish that sentence." Dilys sighed. She knew that there was no way Shandra was going to understand where she was coming from, but she still felt the need to explain herself.

"I know Bishop can be… abrasive," she started, before Shandra interrupted her.

"Really? Are you sure?" she asked in her usual flat toned sarcasm. "Because I don't think abrasive even begins to cover it!" Dilys just rolled her eyes and continued.

"Look, since I am the one responsible for this little band of outcasts I feel the need to keep the peace," she began, folding her hands on the table. "Even with Bishop. Hell, especially with Bishop because he practically blocks out the sun when he's surly."

"Which is all the time," Shandra interjected.

"Not as often as it seems, surprisingly enough," Dilys negated, cocking her head. "He can be quite bearable at times, if you stop letting him rile you up." She paused, knowing what was to come as Shandra gave her a look that was the epitome of skepticism.

"It seems like it would be pretty tough to keep a cool head with the constant stream of lewd remarks pouring from his mouth," Shandra muttered with disdain.

"Well, I've got to deal with him somehow," Dilys argued.

"Ignoring him is probably the best course of action," Shandra cut in. "Keeps his attention focused somewhere else." Shandra glanced over Dilys's shoulder at Bishop sitting at a table across the room, his face obscured by his ale mug. She then turned her attention back to Dilys.

This was something she was having trouble wrapping her mind around. Dilys was a _decent_ person. Bishop was obviously not. From what Shandra had seen, she believed Dilys to be a well rounded woman with solid judgment. So why did her judgment falter now?

"No… See, that's the thing," Dilys began slowly. "I _can't_ just ignore him. Because that would just be letting him win. It would be admitting that I can't handle him, and I'm stronger than that."

"Since when did it become a game?" Shandra asked. Dilys lowered her head at this question and gave her a _very_ serious look.

"It's _always_ a game."

"..Ok..." Shandra replied, a little confused by her intense reaction. "So how do you win then?"

Dilys looked away to consider the question. "I haven't figured that out yet... For the most part our exchanges are usually pretty flippant. Just casually baiting and not really leading anywhere." She smiled at the thought and caught herself in the act, running a hand over her face. "But, that's how things end up changing. It's how I find myself defending him without really meaning to," she said with a twinge of frustration. "I find myself _enjoying_ this game. Enjoying his _company_," she asserted, saying it as if it was a verification of her insanity. Of course, in Shandra's eyes, it was.

"What I don't understand is why you choose to bring him with us almost every time we leave the Flagon," she said. "It's not like we're out to enjoy each other's company when we're scouring Duskwood for clues."

"No, we're not," Dilys replied. "I bring Bishop along because he's a strong fighter, a good tactician, and an excellent scout. I'd take him with us no matter what his personality is like because he has necessary skills that I lack." She shifted in her seat a little as she continued.

"Besides, with the way he gives his opinion so freely he often forces me to think of things in a different light. It's usually a light that reveals a path I would never actually take, but it can lead to different ideas I wouldn't have thought of otherwise." She propped her elbow up on the table and rested her head in her hand, giving her appearance the air of contemplation. "Of course, the fact that he's incredibly easy on the eyes sure doesn't hurt."

"You think his sleazy and unkempt appearance is appealing?" Shandra asked, finding herself unable to see what Dilys could see.

"I prefer to think of him as ruggedly handsome," she countered with a dreamy smile. When Shandra gave her a look that could only be described as worried disgust, she cleared her throat and quickly straightened up. "Anyway, it's just a problem of the occasional flight of fancy that intrudes upon my thoughts when I'm unguarded. I can't really help it." Shandra turned her head to the side and stared at her incredulously, wondering if she was thinking about it _right now_.

"So he's useful. But you seem to work just fine with all the rest of us without getting _involved_," Shandra stressed the word; 'involved' implying so much more. "Honestly I thought I had you pegged as the Casavir type of girl," she said, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Casavir is a good man," Dilys replied, glancing down at the table. Shandra wondered if she had a thing for him too. "I'd trust him with my life any day." Dilys looked back up and smiled. "But he is also incredibly somber. I can discuss serious matters with him but I don't think the man has a sense of humor. And I feel like I've been through all that before with plenty of boys growing up. Being nice all the time was just never enough to keep me interested."

"A relationship isn't supposed to be interesting," Shandra replied. "It's supposed to be _healthy_."

"Look," Dilys said, putting on a frank face and placing her forearms and hands flat on the table. "Just because I have the urge to wrap my legs around the man every now and then doesn't mean I would actually do it," she said, causing Shandra's face to flush.

"It's a completely irrational infatuation and I know it. But I _do_ have self control and I'll never cross that line. It will never be anything more than a minor fixation, because my brain will kick in and remind me that he's rude, lecherous, and a complete bastard. It's just an issue of mind over matter really."

"God I hope so," Shandra replied. "Are you always controlling completely insane urges to do something stupid?" Dilys only grinned.

"Absolutely," she replied. "You have no idea how much I wanted to let loose those imps on the town over in the Blacklake district." Both women laughed and the conversation turned to other things.

Unfortunately, neither woman knew that Bishop had impeccable hearing trained for the slightest of sounds. Not even their hushed voices could hide the details of their conversation from him, and he had begun listening long before the topic had turned to himself. Lowering his tankard of ale back down to the table revealed a satisfied grin. This truly inspiring character who conquered immeasurable odds, a woman who had _cities_ fighting over her… was having to concentrate to keep herself from falling into _his_ bed. It was beautiful.

Traveling with this little group had been the most fun he'd had in years, and to top it all off, he was going to get to engage in a hunt as well. Of course in a pursuit, the most formidable prey was always the most delicious. And Dilys was the best kind of target; challenging to the highest degree but not impossible. She was to be his white deer, and her capture would now be his main priority.

It would take patience, as any worthwhile hunt would, and her reservations were already built up strongly enough to make things difficult. But he would make her see things his way. He could only imagine the bumbling attempts she was used to from the farmboys in her backwater hometown, completely unaware of how to entice a woman.

With her otherworldly appearance, he wouldn't be surprised if many men just stared slack jawed at her in hopes that she would notice them. Add the fact that she lacked the vacuous mindset that so often accompanied a lovely face, replaced instead by a challenging demeanor, and she presented a rather intimidating target to weaker men.

Of course, Bishop was not a weaker man. And he would make sure she knew it. He wouldn't need to put up some façade to make her think he was really a good man deep down inside. That would just be insulting to them both. Instead, he would make her realize that she didn't _want_ a good man. That what she really wanted was a man who could show her how good it feels to be selfish, how she _deserved_ to just take what she wants.

He would just have to make her urges drown out her thoughts. Brush up against her every so often, stand a little closer to her when she talks, and keep her away from the paladin and his high minded ideals. Eventually her objections would have less and less sway and her resolve would crumble. That was when he would strike.

Bishop laughed quietly to himself, incredibly pleased with the recent turn of events. As he took a sip of his ale he had a single conclusive thought.

_The hunt is on._

* * *

><p>…<p>

…**Dilys is a pervert…**

**But I like this chapter. It was really fun to write!**


	6. Challenge

"Let's go!" Dilys exclaimed, striking a statuesque pose in the center of the Sunken Flagon tavern. "You and me, up against as much ale as Duncan can provide without running his little business into the ground!" Khelgar laughed heartily until he was red in the face at the Aasimar's challenge. If he hadn't been sitting at one of the Flagon tables he very well may have fallen over.

"Lassie," Khelgar managed to gasp out once his fit of laughter had subsided. "You'd be drunk under the table before I'd even begun to quench my thirst! You'd best be keepin' your goals within the realm of possibility, or are you 'bout to challenge a red dragon to an arm wrestlin' contest as well?"

"I'm no lightweight Khelgar!" Dilys protested as she put her hands on her hips. "I joined in plenty of drinking contests back in West Harbor, and we harbormen are a sturdy bunch."

"Aye, that may be Dilys, but you're no Ironfist," Khelgar shot back. "You're not even a dwarf. And I won't be thinkin' that the angel blood you've got in you is about to grant you special drinkin' abilities." Dilys rolled her eyes at the dwarf.

"The only things my mixed heritage grants me are odd looks from strangers," she replied, taking a loose strand of hair and investigating it ruefully. "Whatever traces of celestial blood I have in me is far too diluted to endow me with anything more than an unusual appearance."

"That's a load of rot..." Neeshka interjected. "I saw the way you batted your angely eyes at that merchant in Highcliff to get a discount on potions. Not to mention that one time you let your holy shining hair down and sashayed across Back Alley to sweet talk a couple of guards over to your side."

"All right, all right!" Dilys cut, quickly backtracking to stop Neeshka from continuing. "So I use my appearance to my benefit once in a while, there's no need to advertise it."

"She wants to keep her methods and skills undisclosed in case she needs to use them on us," Sand quipped from behind a game of chess. He had been teaching Shandra how to play, and she was currently sitting across from him trying to plan her next move.

"You're never going to give me any credit, are you Sand... Maybe you want in on our contest to showcase a skill of your own?" Dilys asked, a hint of a offense in her voice. He merely smirked and rolled his eyes before returning to his game.

"Are you sure it's wise to get drunk right before the Rite of Tyr Dilys?" Elanee asked, coming up behind her.

"Of course," Dilys replied, turning to face the elf. "That way I'll be able to sleep through the whole thing."

"Wouldn't want to spend that time actually _thinking_, now would we?" Sand muttered rather indiscreetly from his seat.

"The Rite of Tyr was established so the accused could reflect on their deeds before battle, it was not meant to be spent in a drunken stupor," Casavir stated sternly. The paladin rarely ever looked _pleased_, but the look on his face now was one of plain disapproval.

"It's meant to get the guilty to confess," Dilys argued. "I may have to give in to their demand for a fight, but I don't have to spend anymore time dwelling over my own innocence."

She grabbed a couple of tankards of ale from a tray that Duncan had been carrying across the room and set them down on the table at which Khelgar sat. Duncan looked from Dilys to his now empty tray and turned back to the bar with a heavy sigh. "Everybody and their mother could see that Luskan's accusation was completely unfounded," Dilys finished.

"Regardless of the outcome of the trial," Casavir countered. "You should still be spending that time preparing yourself for the battle, both mentally and spiritually. It will not be easy, and if you go unprepared it could cost you your life."

"One of these days you'll learn that she can take care of herself _paladin_," Bishop cut in, getting up from his seat at the bar. "Maybe then you'll come to realize just how useless to this group you really are."

"Back to the matter of drinking the night away..." Dilys interjected when she could see that things were about to get ugly. Any argument could quickly turn into a fight once Bishop got involved. "Khelgar, do you accept my challenge or not?" she asked the dwarf.

"Aye lass, you know I'd not back away from a challenge. But don't come cryin' to me in the mornin' if your head hurts," he replied. Before Dilys could express her spirited approval, she was interrupted.

"Ooh! Ohh! I want to join in too!" Grobnar exclaimed in his ever chipper voice, enthusiastically sitting down beside Khelgar.

"Uh… Sure Grobnar," Dilys replied, taking a seat across the table from them. She beckoned Duncan over as she discreetly moved the ale away from the gnome. "Get him some water to drink, and just let him think it's ale," she whispered to her foster uncle.

"Last thing you want is a drunken gnome on your hands, eh?" he asked knowingly.

"Exactly," she said. "And make sure you keep the ale coming for Khelgar and me."

"For me as well," Bishop said, slamming his now empty tankard down on the table and sliding into the seat next to Dilys. "Got to make sure the dwarf has a real competition on his hands."

She looked at him questioningly for a moment before replying, "If you've got the stomach for it." Then Dilys lifted her tankard to signal the start of the competition. "Let the games begin."

For a group of people intent on getting as drunk as possible, they were remarkably collected. They were mostly quiet, just drinking their ale and not really talking about much other than the trial. Grobnar was the first to drop out, somehow fancying himself inebriated by just drinking water. Casavir took it upon himself to carry the gnome off to his bed.

Khelgar, Bishop, and Dilys kept going however, and were well into their fifth tankards by the time Khelgar had withdrawn from the conversation, apparently content with watching Dilys loose her wits. By that point it was mostly just Bishop reveling in the humiliation Luskan faced in the courtroom, with Dilys expressing particular pride at reducing Luskan's most two-faced ambassador into a sputtering mess with a bit of particularly effective wordplay.

After the laughter died down, Bishop decided to test the waters and see what he could learn. "This little Luskan problem is certainly an annoyance," he said amicably. "But what I don't get is this shard business. Why did you even bother keeping them around in the first place? Just toss them off the docks and let the tides sort them out." Dilys smiled sweetly and shook her head slowly; the drink was most definitely getting to her.

"Well there's the little matter of a silver shard embedded in my chest, so even if I disowned the others those gith were going to come after me anyway," she replied. "And my hometown was attacked because of these stupid shards that _I'm_ responsible for. I want to do what I can to make sure there's still a West Harbor to come back to."

"You actually plan on settling down in that backwater little ditch?" Bishop asked. He had thought she was supposed to be more of the adventurous type.

"Hardly," she said with a laugh. "A short visit home every once in a while might be nice, but settling down there? All my life I was stifled by the swamps of West Harbor, and the prospect of a future of farming mud was not something I delighted in. I even ran away. At least five times."

"But you went back anyway," the ranger said.

"I got lost actually," she replied. "Only to have my guardian track me down and bring me back home."

"You couldn't just stick to the trail?" Bishop asked.

"That's the thing isn't it?" Dilys said, her smile getting a little sadder. "But in truth I didn't want to stick to the trail. I wanted to get lost, to walk where no man's walked before, and to never be found again. There was so much that I wanted to see, that I just couldn't stick to the trail, no matter how close I was to home." She took a long gulp of her ale and let out a breath before she continued.

"When I finally did leave West Harbor, I reveled in the opportunity to see the world, but I was confined to a specific path, just as I have been my whole life. If it wasn't Daeghun bringing me back to the path, it was the shards, the Watch, or the trial. Freedom seems to never be in my grasp."

Bishop stared at her solemnly for a moment. Different levels of emotions were warring on whether to relate to her or hold her in contempt. But no matter how he actually felt, the kind of response he was going to give was an easy decision.

"I had a little more... feeling... than that about it, but your heart's in the right place," he said. "Something you should know; growing up in West Harbor was probably a dream compared to other backwater villages that are scraping by for a living. And whatever you learned there made you tough enough to face the world outside. You should count yourself lucky." Dilys stared at him with great interest, as if he was suddenly granting her the world's most useful bit of information. Naturally this was a good sign, and Bishop made the best use of this opportunity.

"Because for every West Harbor that spawns a hero, there's one that makes a hundred brigands, killers, and cowards," he said, pausing for dramatic effect. "And then there's me," he concluded with the most roguish smile he had to offer. Though her face was already fairly red from the liquor, Dilys blushed intensely at his response. Bishop _relished_ that small victory.

Eager to move the conversation along, Dilys remembered something she had wanted to ask Bishop. And with five tankards of liquid courage running through her veins she felt she was at last bold enough to ask.

"Bishop, whatever happened between you and Malin in Port Llast?" Bishop lifted his mug to his lips, preventing Dilys from being able to read his expression.

"Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no tales," he said with a sly askance look in her direction.

"Oh don't be so coy," she said with a silly smile. "It was clear that you two had a history together, one in which you were more than friends."

"She's a scout who couldn't find her way north along the Sword Coast if she wanted to," he replied, not meeting her questioning gaze. "And yeah, she's almost gotten me killed before."

"Bishop doesn't serve anyone but himself, is what she said," Dilys managed to say without stumbling over any of the words. Bishop turned to face her then, a ghost of a smile lingering on the corners of his mouth. Tonight was a good night to push his chances.

"Why the sudden interest?" he asked, slipping a bit of seduction into his voice and leaning ever so slightly towards her. Dilys was suddenly very aware of the forbidden attraction to the ranger that she had promised to not act on.

"No reason," she said, sitting up straight. "Seems like it'd be an easy way to go through life. Keeps things simple."

"Well now," he replied with an appreciative smirk. "That's how I see it, too. Glad to hear someone willing to admit it."

"But…" she continued quietly as she leaned her elbows on the table. "I wouldn't be able to do it. Freedom is not the same as isolation, I think. And as much as I enjoy my personal space, I think I'd just be overcome by loneliness." Bishop watched her as she gazed into her drink, as if searching for answers in the bottom of the tankard. She seemed like a smaller person as she sat hunched over her ale, and it annoyed Bishop.

"What Malin said... just words," he replied. "She never knew me, and neither will you."

"Oh..." Dilys murmured, an inexplicable feeling of disappointment settling into her stomach. Or perhaps it was the ale she felt in her stomach, and the disappointment was the swimming sensation in her head. Either way, she knew when she was done. Not wanting to even look at Bishop that moment, she spied Casavir across the room.

"Casavir!" she called out to him, catching his attention.

"Have you finally had enough Dilys?" he asked after he made his way over to where she was sitting.

"Yes sir knight," she answered, turning in her seat to face Casavir and offer him a sleepy smile. "I'm not entirely confident in my ability to walk right now. I was hoping you could help me to my room so I could prepare for the rite?"

"Of course," he replied, holding out his arm for her to steady herself. She took it readily and stood up from the bench, pausing to address the dwarf.

"You win Khelgar. Tell Duncan to put it all on my tab," she said.

"That I will, and a few more as well!" Khelgar replied, getting up to move to the bar. Dilys giggled and nodded, before letting Casavir lead her out of the tavern. Bishop was left alone at the table, with only his growing frown to keep him company.

He had messed up. If he had continued to charm her with lively conversation, she would have turned to him instead of that wretched paladin to aid her. He might even have had the opportunity to invite himself into her room, gods knew the paladin wouldn't take advantage of the situation. But he had let things get too personal, and not in a good way.

It was frustrating that he had slipped out of the predator mindset after getting caught up in the conversation, but it was something to be expected when alcohol was involved. Bishop ran a hand through his hair, he knew he was likely not going to get a chance like this again. There would be no shortcuts when it came to Dilys.

* * *

><p>Dilys yawned as she shifted on one of the stiff wooden benches the temple offered. Unable to rest with her rather uncomfortable lodgings, she undertook the task of braiding her long hair. She knew she was in for a hell of a fight, and she wanted to be prepared as she could be. If that meant the possibility of strangling Lorne with a rope made of her own hair, so be it. Dilys was very nearly finished with the task when she saw Sand enter the temple out of the corner of her eye. She gave him an expectant smile as he made his way over to her.<p>

"I hope you don't mind if I come in here and start just speaking my mind," he said, taking a seat beside her. "Otherwise, this place would seem awfully dull."

"What, the dim candlelight and undecorated stone walls don't fascinate you?" Dilys asked sarcastically. "I'm bubbling with excitement at the thought of being stuck here all night."

"Yes, well..." he said, diverting her caustic remark by clearing his throat. "I just wanted to say 'good job' as to your performance at the trial," he said. "To force such a desperate maneuver as trial by combat means your hand was very well played indeed."

"I... uh, thanks," Dilys replied, her raised eyebrows conveying her surprise.

"I give credit where credit is due," he said with a wry smile. "But the fight tomorrow is going to be an entirely different challenge." Sand gave Dilys a sidelong glance, as if unsure as to whether he should continue. "I could help, you know."

"Anything you can do to tip the odds is fine by me," Dilys answered, nodding enthusiastically.

"Here, take this," Sand said, handing her a small satchel. The clinking sound of glass vials bumping up against each other inside hinted at its contents. "It's a few special concoctions I whipped up to help you tomorrow should Lorne decide to poison, cheat, or simply give you several gaping chest wounds," he explained anyway. "And, uh, no need for further thanks, it would just be embarrassing," he said, putting his hands up with mock pride.

"Well then, I'll let you return to the engrossing task of tying your hair in knots," he finished, standing to leave. Dilys looked away to the satchel, taking out a vial and examining its contents as Sand made his way to the exit.

"So will you be staying with us once the fight is over then?" she asked quietly without looking up. Sand paused in his steps and turned to face her.

"And put myself in constant danger simply to give you a little help? Hardly," he answered. Dilys looked up then, and Sand sighed, recognizing her need for further explanation. "

You're not entirely unpleasant to deal with, Dashurie," he began. "And unlike your uncle you at least seem to be working with a full box of matches, but you can't expect others to be utterly devoted to you without any effort on your part. If you just go about your business and hope the force of your personality is enough to instill loyalty you should prepare to be disappointed."

Dilys furrowed her brow as he continued. "Perhaps you're used to being adored by the few yokels in your hometown, but if you want to be a true leader out here in the wide world, you have to take it upon yourself to reach out to others."

Dilys nodded slowly in response, taking in what he said. After a long moment of not speaking, and just as Sand was about to turn to leave she said, "I'm sorry if I haven't been attentive enough, Sand." He sighed and rolled his eyes at her self-depreciating response.

"You've done nothing wrong," he said. "But my staying with your group is going to be the result of an order from above. We're colleagues, not friends."

"Well," she said cautiously, seemingly unsure if she should continue. "I hope we can fix that in the future." Sand just looked back at her for a moment, studying her countenance. At last he smiled, with a hint of resignation gracing his features.

"Perhaps we can," he replied lightly, then turned around and made his exit. Dilys allowed herself a small smile once he had left, and gave a tired sigh. Now she would have some soul searching to do, and she would find little sleep tonight. She wondered if that was Sand's intention, to get her to think about the people in her life so that maybe she would have renewed purpose come the dawn.

It wasn't as if she didn't care about her comrades in arms, she just simply wasn't used to having to make new friends. She had never in her life left the Mere before the start of her little adventure. The yokels, as Sand had called them, had all grown up with her, so meeting new people and making new friends was not something she had much practice with.

She wondered why Sand had used the phrasing he did, when he had said they adored her. She liked to think of herself as that pretty young Aasimar girl that was good with a sword and liked to play with the boys. Dilys hardly ever had any trouble recruiting plenty of harbormen into doing something she wanted them to do. So when she left for Neverwinter, it was easy for her to forget that people didn't naturally gravitate towards her. Instead they had cultivated their affection after a lifetime of being stuck with each other. At the very least Shandra seemed to be a real friend, after some literal trials by fire they had gone through together, but Dilys couldn't really say the same about the rest of her allies.

Dilys sighed again as she lay down on the bench and stretched out, letting her head hang off the end as she gazed upon Tyr's idol. She wondered if she had become self-centered after many years of positive attention. She had already assumed the same loyalty of the West Harbor militia from her companions, even though she hadn't made much of an effort to be a personable leader.

Dilys liked taking charge of her group, and enjoyed the company of friends, but actually opening up to them would not be so easy. If there was one thing the teenage drama and eager friends of West Harbor couldn't make up for, it was the painful lack of attention she received from her "family": Daeghun.

She would get no life lessons or words of comfort from him; instead he had expected her to shoulder her own burdens and solve her problems on her own. She would occasionally receive advice from Georg or Brother Merring if they detected something was troubling her, but it was at Daeghun's house she lived, and a concerned bystander couldn't make up for a parent that discouraged sharing your feelings.

"It's just a statue, you know. Tyr isn't watching this, but I am."

Dilys gasped at the sound of another voice and sat up to find Bishop standing in the doorway.

"Bishop... What are you doing here?" she asked, wary of his intentions. She felt in desperate need of some words of encouragement right then, but she certainly didn't expect any from Bishop.

"Well I figured your chances for the fight tomorrow are pretty grim, but I don't want to get bored tomorrow, so listen," he said walking up to her. His face was strictly business, an expression that made Dilys stand up and pay attention.

"Lorne's barely keeping it together at the best of times. Your best bet is to keep hitting him, but stay out of reach," he continued. "He won't have any ranged weapons, he likes that falchion too much to fight smart. He doesn't like being weighed down with armor, so you shouldn't have trouble hitting him, so keep hitting him and hitting him, and don't stop." Dilys held up her hands to stop his speech.

"Bishop, you realize you could have just substituted my name in there and would be describing me fairly accurately?" she asked, shaking her head in frustration. "I fight just like Lorne, except I'm not as strong so I'm in even _more_ trouble. Ranged weapons..." she let out a small unhappy laugh. "What am I supposed to do throw rocks at him?"

"Well, could you?" Bishop countered, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Could I what?" Dilys asked.

"Throw rocks at him," he replied. "How's your throwing arm?"

Dilys paused and regarded his question before she answered. "Good enough to hit where I'm aiming I suppose, but rocks aren't going to kill Lorne."

Bishop was quiet for a moment, measuring her up. Then he unsheathed his dagger with a quick swipe, flipped it over so that the handle was facing outward, and handed it to her. "Here, use this," he offered as she hesitantly took the knife.

"At some point, he's going to lose it completely, go berserk... He'll be most dangerous then, but that's when you know you've got him desperate," he said. "He's not going to spare you, not after all Luskan went through to get you." He turned around to leave without another word, apparently eager to get out of the temple.

"Anyway, I've said enough," he concluded with a deep breath. "If you want me to fight for you tomorrow, I might do it, I might not. Ask for me before the fight, and if so, I'll step in." Dilys rushed up behind him before he could leave, reflexively reaching out to him before quickly bringing her hand back down.

"Why would you help me?" she asked. He turned to regard her, studying her face. She was standing closer than usual, and he could see some sort of desperation in her eyes.

"I don't know, really," he answered slowly. "Lorne bothers me. I think I'd like killing him." Her expression hardened into something unfeeling at his response.

"Oh," she said quietly, looking down and taking a step back. "Well if it makes no difference to you, I think I'll take on Lorne personally. It's my bones he wants to break after all."

"Suit yourself," he said, leaving the temple without a second glance.

For what felt like the millionth time that night, Dilys sighed heavily as she sank back down into her seat on the bench. Should she even bother questioning Bishop's motives for visiting her? She pushed the stray wisps of hair hanging down in front of her face back over her head and stared up at the ceiling, murmuring to herself. "Why is it everyone seems so determined to deprive me of sleep tonight..."

* * *

><p>The crowd roared as Dilys struck another light blow against Lorne's midsection and bounded away from him. So far she had been doing better than she had expected. Dilys was by no means a fast person, but compared to Lorne she was as quick as lightning. So using that to her advantage, she had taken Bishop's advice and kept out of reach, darting in for small strikes to slowly wear Lorne down.<p>

_I might actually be able to win this_, she thought to herself as she took another shot at his legs. The wild cheers of the audience proved that the crowd was indeed on her side, providing a welcome boost in confidence. She took a quick glance at the stands as she backed off to a far corner of the arena. Every last one of her companions were up there watching intently, many of them cheering her on. Dilys felt proud that she was able to prove herself worth cheering for.

Buoyed by the crowd's excitement, she charged straight at Lorne. But she had started from too far away, and he had enough time to see her coming and prepare for her attack. Dilys was running too fast and was too close to just stop dead in her tracks, and she could tell from his stance that he was planning to sweep low with his falchion so that she couldn't roll out of the way. As his sword swept out and then upward towards her, she positioned herself so that the impact would be directly to her breastplate. Dilys shut her eyes and held her breath, knowing it would be no standard strike.

The clang of metal against metal was deafening; loud enough to completely drown out the agonizing cry of pain that accompanied it, or the gasp of shock from the crowd. The blow was so fierce that Dilys was sent flying head over heels backwards until she was lying flat on her stomach. Somewhere past the ringing in her ears she could hear Lorne laughing cruelly at her, so she shook her head as hard as she could to regain her senses.

Dilys struggled to get up as fast as she could, but she could tell from the incredible pain that she had a few bruised ribs, maybe even broken, and the halfplate had dented so far in that it was crushing her chest. She looked up to see Lorne was sauntering over at a leisurely pace, clearly enjoying her pain. In a moment of desperation she snatched Bishop's dagger from her belt for a moment and frantically swiped at the well worn leather straps of her armor, tearing it off of her and scrambling away to the other side of the arena as fast as she could, no matter how painful it was to do so.

Dilys knew better than to try to catch an attack with her armored gauntlets, but without her chest armor she was left with only her greatsword to defend herself. And with her ribs in no state to allow her to wield the weapon effectively without any blinding pain, she wasn't exactly in top form for offense either.

Making the best of her situation, Dilys continued with her small quick attacks, though they were much weaker due to her injuries. Lorne was bleeding in many areas however, and as long as she could keep wearing him down without taking another hit from him again, she would be able to pull through. She downed a healing potion once she was far enough away, which helped to drown out the pain, but she would need something stronger to mend her wounded ribcage.

After yet another slice at his leg, Lorne snarled fiercely and began charging at her, no longer satisfied with remaining on the defensive. He began slashing out with wide sweeps of his sword as Dilys backed away. She evaded each one, dodging low and to the side of every attack, until one caught her across her left bicep, cutting deep enough to bleed.

Dilys could hear the crowd booing and shouting angrily as she gripped her arm tightly and backed away, fighting back tears of pain. She tried flexing her fingers a bit, and though her hand was a bit numb, it still functioned. But the cut was losing a lot of blood fast, and she had to do something about it quick if she wanted to stay conscious. Her greatsword was no longer useful to her with only one good arm. She spun herself around in a wide arc and used the force of her circular momentum to hurl the sword at Lorne, stopping him mid charge.

She darted off in the short moment the small distraction gave her, and quickly reached her hand into the tear on her sleeve and ripped the fabric all the way off, leaving her with a long bandage. Hearing Lorne coming after her yet again, she turned around to skip backwards while she tied the bandage tightly on to her arm to stop the blood flow. Now a weapon master without her weapon, and lacking in any sort of protective gear save for her armored gauntlets, Dilys was very much reminded of why she fought in groups.

Dilys ran about the arena for a bit with Lorne in pursuit, trying to think of how she could possibly end this alive. She still had Bishop's borrowed knife, but it was too small a weapon for her to attack without putting herself well within range of another assault. And if she threw the dagger, she really would have nothing left to fight with. Her aim would have to be exact to finish the fight right then and there.

Her life depended on one throw.

Once she had cleared enough distance between her and Lorne, she removed the knife from her belt and held it in a manner that suggested a downward strike. With the blade facing out and her right elbow pointed at Lorne, she crouched low in a defensive stance and prayed that the few throwing contests she engaged in growing up was enough to keep her aim steady.

Lorne kept up his charge, and as soon as Dilys was almost within striking distance of his sword she brought her arm out with a steady sweep, letting the dagger fly from her fingers. She watched as if time had slowed down as the knife sailed through the air, until it finally found its place planted firmly in Lorne's neck.

The crowd fell silent as Lorne immediately stopped in his tracks, standing stock still for a moment before he reached up to the knife and pulled it out of the wound. He dropped both his falchion and the knife to the ground, bringing both hands up to grip the gaping hole in his neck. Watching him carefully, Dilys moved away to retrieve her greatsword as Lorne fell to his knees, all the while making sickening choking sounds.

Dilys had her blade propped up on her shoulder as she returned to stand before the dieing man, and he followed her with his eyes as she stooped to pick up Bishop's dagger. She then took her time to clean the blade thoroughly on her already dirty blouse before tucking it back into her belt.

The crowd stared as if in a trance as Dilys returned her attention to Lorne, and leaned down to whisper something in his ear. He suddenly seemed to gain new life as he released a strangled cry and lunged toward her with clearly murderous intent. With a surprisingly graceful movement given her wounds, she knelt with her greatsword positioned between them, causing Lorne to literally fall on her sword.

He at last fell to the ground, the life fading from his body as Dilys pulled her blade away from him and sank to her knees. She was physically incapable of raising her greatsword over her head at the moment, so she once again retrieved the dagger from her belt and held it up high above her, declaring herself the victor.

The silence over the crowd at last lifted as a roar erupted from the audience. Dilys could feel her wounds catching up with her as the sound of people chanting her name washed over her. She brought the dagger down again and silently thanked the weapon for saving her life, placing a gentle kiss on the blade. She was vaguely aware of Nasher giving a speech as she turned her head towards the stands to seek out the one that had given it to her. But before she could catch a glimpse of him, the light faded and she sank blissfully into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>Dilys hissed slightly as Elanee unwrapped the makeshift bandage around the fighter's arm to properly dress the wound. She was sitting up on the bar counter, getting her more pressing wounds dealt with before going to get cleaned up. But even if she hadn't needed tending to, she still would have rather sat in the tavern than sneaking off to her room. After having to endure such a brutal fight alone, the presence of her teammates was a great reassurance that she wouldn't have to go through it again any time soon.<p>

"I gotta admit, though, it was a pretty good fight," Neeshka said from her seat at the nearest adjacent table. "I was on the edge of my seat whenever I wasn't up cheering."

"I'm just glad it's all over with," Shandra sighed, leaning beside Dilys against the bar. "At least now the threat of death won't be such a constant strain on our everyday lives."

"Hopeful words farmgirl," Bishop said, strutting up past her to stand on the other side of the bar behind Dilys. "But foolish. There's _always_ the threat of death, especially in the presence of certain Aasimars." Dilys turned around to snap at him but was suddenly very painfully reminded of her many cracked ribs, causing her to straighten back up and let loose a string of colorful swear words.

"Dilys!" Elanee protested at her foul language.

"Oh like Bishop's never made you want to curse before," she replied flippantly.

"That I can't deny," Elanee murmured.

"Now now," Bishop interjected. "Is that any way to treat someone that just helped you?" he said, moving forward to lean over the bar beside Dilys. "I believe you have something that belongs to me," he said to her in a sultry voice. She stared back at him for a long moment, as if hypnotized by his gaze, before she pulled the dagger out of her belt and held it out to him.

"It saved my life... so I guess I owe you one," she said cautiously. He took the blade from her with a proud smirk.

"Don't give him any ideas Dilys," Shandra cut in. "We all know how he likes his _favors_."

"Actually," Bishop said with a scornful glance in Shandra's direction. "It didn't make the final killing blow, that glowing greatsword of yours did. So a simple 'thank you' will be enough for me." All four women stopped and stared at him as if he had grown a second head.

"Y-yes of course Bishop, you have my thanks," Dilys replied, a bit stunned.

"Although," he continued. "If you were to be inclined to express your thanks in a more _physical_ way, I'd be much more satisfied."

"And there it is," Shandra said, as the world was suddenly returned to normal.

"Though I wanted to ask you something Dilys," Neeshka said. "What happened at the end there? One moment it seemed like he was done for and the next he was charging at you like a crazed bull."

"Indeed," Sand said, walking up to be more involved in the conversation. "I'm curious as well. It looked like you said something to him."

"Yeah, that's right," Shandra added. "What did you say to him Dilys?"

"Well," she began, pausing to swallow thickly. "Since both Lorne and I grew up in West Harbor-"

"Wait, what?" Shandra interrupted. "You _knew_ Lorne?"

"A little, yes," Dilys answered. "His brother and I- Well, his whole family really... We were very close before I left home, and I even promised his mother I would try to find Lorne when I got to Neverwinter."

"Hah! That's just perfect," Bishop laughed darkly. "It must have been easy to set him off like you did then."

"Well, it's not going to be easy telling his mother that he died by _my_ hand," she replied, glaring at him.

"What exactly did you say to him to get such a reaction from him Dilys?" Elanee asked.

"I told him," she said, a look of quiet disappointment coming to rest on her face. "That his mother would be ashamed of him."

* * *

><p><strong>Not pictured: Dilys drinking gallons of water to avoid a hangover. Also this chapter was a bit too long for my tastes, so in the future I'll be splitting up chapters that get too lengthy.<strong>


	7. Enlightening

A set of tables had been pushed together in the Flagon's dining area to serve a small victory feast over Dilys's battle with Lorne. With her ribs and arm tightly bandaged and needing to be sword free for a few days, the newly humbled Aasimar sat at the head of the group, appreciating how very lucky she was to be alive.

"I'll be heading down to West Harbor for a short visit tomorrow," Dilys said, gathering everyone's attention. "No fighting, just errands and whatnot. Anyone who wants to join me is welcome to come. I could use the company." Her eyes darted with uncertainty across her companions faces as she waited for a reaction. Shandra was the first to speak.

"Sure, why not?" she said. "I could stand a nice stroll through the outdoors without someone trying to kill us." Dilys smiled warmly, glad to know that she wasn't going to be making the trip alone.

"Well you can count _me_ out," Qara interjected. "I'm not going to be dragged to some smelly swamp in the middle of nowhere if I don't have to."

Khelgar shook his head before replying. "Well I don't care about the smell. But after my stay at the Weeping Willow Inn, I might as well have already been there. Besides, someone's got to make sure the ale gets drunk."

"Not unless you intend on paying for it, you pint-sized freeloader," Duncan cut from behind the bar. Khelgar merely chuckled. Duncan wasn't very good at collecting his tabs and he knew his threats were empty.

"I too have already seen West Harbor, as I have seen all that rests within the Merdelain," said Elanee. "I shall stay behind and bide my time."

After a moment longer when nobody spoke up, Dilys turned to Shandra with a small shrug. "I guess it's just you and me then, Shandra."

"Actually," Neeshka cut in. "I think I'll team up with you too. A thief can make a killing in a small town where people don't lock their doors." Dilys raised her brow but stayed quiet. She'd simply let Neshka find out on her own that they didn't have much to steal.

"I would also like to see West Harbor," Casavir said. "The villagers that held back an attack from the Githyanki must be an impressive group indeed." Dilys smiled and nodded. She glanced down the table to where Bishop was sitting, but he just remained silent and continued eating.

"Anyone else?" she chimed, hoping to illicit some sort of reaction.

"Oh I wish I could go with you Dilys," Grobnar exclaimed. "But I have a persistent tune stuck in my head that just won't cease unless I pen it to paper." Dilys responded with a lopsided grin, and was actually a little relieved that they would have some measure of peace and quiet on their journey.

"As much as I am _loath_ to admit it, the Mere is actually a bountiful source of alchemical materials," Sand said in his usual deadpan manner. "I suppose I will be joining you as well."

Dilys smirked at him and said, "Careful Sand, you might accidentally enjoy yourself." To which he responded by rolling his eyes.

"All right," she began. "That makes five of us, a nice sized group." She was dissatisfied with the fact that Bishop didn't even bother acknowledging her invitation, but at the same time a little relieved. She could go about her hometown without feeling his eyes on her every step of the way. And who knows how much personal information could be gleamed from her friends back home. Yes, things were most likely working out for the best, but it didn't stop her from sustaining a small bit of disappointment.

"It's about a two day's journey if we leave at dawn," Dilys continued. "So be here in the tavern, packed and ready to leave by sunrise tomorrow." Her companions nodded and they amiably continued their meal.

* * *

><p>"Everyone ready?" Dilys asked. As promised, Shandra, Neeshka, Casavir, and Sand had gathered in the tavern shortly before sunrise. When they all voiced their consent, she gave an adventurous grin and headed towards the door. She ventured one last glance back at the hallway that led to the bedrooms before opening the Flagon door and stepping out into the morning chill.<p>

Only to stop short when she discovered Bishop leaning against the wall beside the door. Of course, since she stopped in the doorway without warning, the rest of her companions bumped into each other in a line, sending Dilys and Neeshka tripping over the threshold.

Bishop simply looked on with amusement as they fell in a tangle of limbs and cloaks to the dirt. "What the hells!" Neeshka yelped from the ground, trying to free her tail from underneath Dilys. Neeshka managed to maneuver into a sitting position, and saw Bishop waiting on the wall.

"Oh great," she muttered, when she realized he was probably going to come with them. Shandra, Sand, and Casavir walked outside to find Bishop there, and all three had similar reactions. Dilys, in the meantime, had somehow managed to get both her and Neeshka's cloaks wrapped around her head. When she had finally managed to free herself she glowered at Bishop, and he responded with a devilish smirk.

"You weren't planning on leaving without _me_ were you?" he asked, clearly enjoying her surprise. Her expression was angry and slightly confused. He derived far too much pleasure from sneaking up on her.

"We have more than enough people already, Bishop," Casavir stated coldly as he bent down to help the two women to their feet. Dilys muttered a quiet thank you and brushed herself off.

"Since I'm short a sword arm I'll take all the help I can get, Casavir," she said. "But if you two are going to be at each other's throats the whole time I'm leaving you _both_ behind."

"There now. Looks like you'll just have to play nice for a few days, _paladin_," Bishop replied with a pleased smile, pushing himself off the wall.

"Don't push your luck, _ranger_," Dilys shot, jabbing her index finger up at him. It was moments like these when she wondered why she ever enjoyed his company in the first place. "I intend on enjoying myself for the next few days, and if you do anything to hinder that you can track yourself right back to the Flagon."

His grin melted into a scowl as she directed her anger at him. He intensified his glare as he leveled his gaze with hers. "Oh don't worry, you're sure to find _plenty_ of enjoyment on this trip," he said in an acrid tone, the hint of either a promise or a threat behind his words. Dilys's anger turned to speculation before she broke his stare and turned to the others.

"I've managed to set us up a ride on a sheep cart just out of town, that will cover a great distance of the trip for us. So if there are to be no _other_ surprise guests then we can get going," she said. With that they were off.

* * *

><p>The sun was setting as they neared the outskirts of West Harbor, and the path took them through the Mossfeld's farm. Most of the family could be seen tilling the soil in the distance, but when Wyl noticed Dilys approaching, he stopped what he was doing and strode over to the road to intercept them. Dilys swore under her breath when she saw him waiting for her.<p>

"Well well," he sneered. "West Harbor's own guardian angel has come home."

"As _charming_ as your company is Wyl, I have business in the village. Stand aside," Dilys commanded, crossing her arms defiantly across her chest.

"Since when did you become so afraid of confrontation?" he asked. "Last I remember you were always the one to stir things up!"

"Oh she causes a stir all right..." Neeshka quipped. Dilys turned back towards her to offer her a sour look.

"Hah, no surprise there," Wyl replied. "After the feuds I've been through I have first hand experience as to what a viscous viper she is."

"Well if _you_ could have taken a hint then the fight would have never happened in the first place!" Dilys snapped back at him.

"Taken a hint? Is that your way of saying I should have allowed my pride to be stomped on?" he seethed. "Pardon me for not taking your abuses lying down."

"That's the risk you took when you put your pride out there to begin with," a gentler voice spoke from behind. "You can hardly blame Dilys for being decisive." Wyl turned around to find his brothers Webb and Ward joining in the company.

"Hello Webb," she said, a warm smile spreading across her face. "You too Ward," she added. Bishop watched carefully at the genuine expression she offered the local boys. He had seen nothing like it from her before, neither to him or any of her other companions. Where she had given him sarcastic smirks and challenging grins, now she appeared caring and unguarded. It was an altogether different picture of beauty, one which she could obviously effect these harbormen with.

Wyl spotted more than one look Dilys was getting from her male companions. "And of course you've already got a new harem at your service. Look at these fools. You just flash a pretty smile and they're drooling at your feet."

"_Excuse_ me?" Sand gaped incredulously.

"You just can't help yourself can you Dilys?" Wyl accused before he turned back to the men. "Is she stringing you all along with unspoken promises? Twisting you up so she can make you dance like puppets?" Dilys ran her hand down her face and chuckled in disbelief. This was not the welcome she wanted her companions to be greeted with.

"Cut it out Wyl." Webb said. "Dilys obviously has enough to worry about without you throwing a temper tantrum."

"Uh, what exactly is all the bickering about?" Shandra asked.

"Wyl thought Dilys liked him when she actually liked Webb," Ward answered in the most bored tone possible. "So Wyl and Webb got into a huge fight over it... Four years ago."

"Ward!" Dilys yelped.

"What? I'm the independent third party here," Ward replied with an innocent grin. "Besides, someone in the village is bound to bring up your little boy problem."

"Why don't you want us to know Dilys?" Sand asked warily.

"Would _you_ go around bragging about an incident like this Sand?" she asked him. "It's just personal," she muttered, studying her shoes.

"We sort of depend on each other for survival, I think that's about as personal as it gets," Neeshka replied.

"Can we _please_ talk about something else?" Dilys begged, a bright blush creeping across her face. "The majesty of West Harbor's dismal swamps, perhaps? Or even better, how about you guys waiting back at my house while I run a few errands in the village?"

"Not a chance," Bishop said, sporting a merciless grin. Dilys turned to eye him speculatively.

"You really enjoy watching me squirm, don't you?" she asked him. Ward snorted indiscreetly at her words.

"I'll bet he does," he quipped. Dilys casually strolled up and used her good arm to elbow him in the stomach, causing him to double over and start coughing.

"Whoops, my arm slipped," Dilys said nonchalantly, her tone not at all apologetic. Ward laughed bitterly at her response.

"Even when you're all bandaged up you manage to cause me pain," he sputtered. "Now I remember why I never fought over you with my brothers."

"All right, I think I've had enough awkward demonstrating for one day," Dilys said. "We have plenty to do and we're short on daylight." She turned and started making her way to the village with her companions in tow.

"Don't pretend everything is peachy Dilys!" Wyl shouted after her. "I'm not going to drop this until one of us drops dead!"

"Don't tempt me!" she shouted back without turning to face him. She could see her own house a short distance away, and she wasted enough time already. But before she even reached her home, she spotted the red cloak of Brother Merring standing in the clearing before the town bridge. It saved her the time of having to track him down.

"Good evening Brother Merring," she said cheerfully, walking up to the older man and digging a wooden box out of her pack. "I've brought you a tithe box from the temple in Neverwinter."

"It's good to see you doing the Morninglord's work Dilys. I hope you didn't sustain those injuries on your way to bringing this box to me," he said, gesturing to her bandages.

"It was an endeavor that was just a _bit_ more difficult than making a simple delivery to cause me such harm," she replied wryly, handing him the box.

"Your arm," he said, not sharing her light tone. "You can't use the Light of Lathander this way can you?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Is there something wrong with it? Did it become too unbalanced and cause you to get hurt?" Merring asked.

"No no, the sword is as strong as ever," she replied. "And the man that gave me these wounds was slain by it."

"Are you managing to watch the sunrises?" he asked, probing further.

"Every morning, Brother Merring," Dilys answered. "I make sure to wield the Light of Lathander with purpose."

"You are a follower of Lathander?" Casavir asked, a faint hint of surprise in his voice.

"I hadn't pictured you as the uh, actively spiritual type," Neeshka said.

"It's just a good way to live life, is all." Dilys replied. "Every day is a fresh start, so there's always something to look forward to."

"Well," Merring began with a chuckle "You _were_ training to become a paladin at one time Dilys, so your spirituality may not be as active as it once was."

"Now _that_ I can't imagine," Neeshka asserted.

"Well she's obviously not a paladin _now_," Shandra observed. "So..."

"I think it was just a bit too rigid for her," Merring said.

"I _may_ have skipped a bit too many lessons," Dilys replied sheepishly. "I'm a militiaman through and through, but I just can't manage the discipline for all the holy stuff."

"I suppose that's childhood mischief for you," Merring mused. "Dilys always preferred having sword fights with the boys to learning rites."

"Ah, heh," Dilys coughed with a blush. "We really should be going to my house now. Good evening Brother Merring." The priest gave a curt nod as Dilys headed straight for her house, walking just a little quicker this time. She wouldn't make it all the way there however, as Georg seemed to appear out of nowhere to welcome Dilys back to town.

"Well it seems little Dash has come home!" he exclaimed with a hearty slap to her non-injured shoulder. Dilys gritted her teeth and tried not to roll her eyes at the sound of her nickname. The shortening of her last name she didn't mind so much, but the 'little' part always annoyed her.

"Hello Georg," Dilys said with a polite smile. "I see the repairs to the village have come along nicely."

"That's West Harbor for you. It will take much more than a few monsters to run us into the ground," he replied. "But what about these bandages here? How did you get those?"

"An epic battle between me and a mountain, Georg," Dilys answered. "The mountain lost."

"Still though," he mused. "You always take the most damage on your upper arms. And you know just why that is!"

"I know, I know," Dilys said. "Stay fluid..."

"And don't tense up!" Georg said, finishing the line he had taught during militia training. "You've got to strike without hesitation! Honestly Dilys, you always got the hang of it in the sparring matches, you just need to work on it when you're actually fighting the bad guys."

"So Dilys fights more effectively without the intent to kill? Hmm." Bishop mused. "Not the best way to go about keeping yourself alive."

"Hey, looks like you picked up an admirer, Dilys," Georg said, taking note of Bishop but completely ignoring what he said. "Well met there, boy. You sweep her off her seat from some seedy tavern, did you?" he asked. Bishop didn't miss a beat.

"Oh yeah, she wasn't even conscious when we were married," he said, sidling up next to her and slinking an arm around her waist. Dilys kept her cool and decided to play along.

"For the honeymoon either," Dilys quipped, brushing her hair out of her face with a disappointed sigh. "Must not have been that great."

"No no, I'm too much of a gentleman to take advantage of you like that," he drawled, sliding his hand up to her shoulder and pulling her closer to him. "I was saving the honeymoon for tonight."

"Ah good," she gushed, bringing her hand to her heart with mock enthusiasm. "I wasn't sure if I could love you for your winning personality alone." Georg laughed heartily at their little display of 'affection'.

"Still playing the part of man-eater then, eh Dilys?" Georg asked.

"Georg!" Dilys practically shrieked, pulling away from Bishop.

"Be careful with this one boys, she's a real predator once she's got her eye on you," he said. Dilys winced at his choice of words, and carefully avoided eye contact with everyone. Especially Bishop.

"Is _everyone_ in the village going to bring up my boy troubles? I wasn't _that_ bad!" she said with exasperation. "And even if I was, that was years ago. So how about we talk about how I matured into a responsible adult instead? "

"No _please_!" Sand remarked. "Tell us more of the vicious viper of West Harbor."

"Sand!" Dilys wondered how many more times she was going to have to defensively shout someone's name today. Georg only laughed again.

"No, I'll bet you'll find out soon enough. I can tell she hasn't dug her claws into any of you yet," he said, scanning the men of the group. "Just take a look at poor Bevil Starling to get an idea of how hooked a man can get. To this day the boy would take an arrow for her if she asked him to stand for target practice. Well you just keep playing nice Dilys. Everyone's always a lot happier before you go around complicating things, intentionally or not," he finished, shaking a damning finger at the Aasimar.

"Speaking of Bevil," Dilys said, quick to jump on an opportunity to change the subject. "Is he around?"

"He got hurt pretty bad out in the swamp a couple days ago, won't tell anybody what happened," Georg replied, framing his chin with his hand. "He hasn't come out of his room since. He might make an exception for you though."

"Thanks Georg," Dilys said, eager to move on. "I'll be sure to pay him a visit after I stop by my house."

"Don't think you'll find Daeghun there for a few days. He went out scouting this morning and gave no clue as to when he'll be back," Georg warned.

"Damn. The man always seems to make himself scarce whenever I really need to talk to him," Dilys muttered to herself before addressing Georg. "I'll see you later Georg."

Dilys left Georg's company and at last managed to lead her companions to her house without interruption. She opened the door and led them inside before speaking. "Make yourselves at home. I'm going to see if I can scrounge up something for us to eat for dinner."

"Oh but Dilys," Sand said with great patronization. "This little tour of your village has been too _enlightening_ for us to quit now."

"Yeah yeah, you guys can skewer me later," Dilys replied, her patience wearing thin. "But I've got to break the news to Retta Starling that I killed her son, and I don't need an audience." She walked halfway through the front door before turning back to face the others, her hand still lingering on the door handle. "Just... have a seat at the table. Dinner will be ready before you know it." With that she left.

* * *

><p><strong>Of the background traits you can choose in character creation, Dilys's was 'flirt'. Too bad they only came into effect like twice in the whole game.<strong>

**This chapter was so long that I had to split it in two, so the West Harbor Holiday continues into next chapter!**


	8. Honeymoon

Bishop found his way to the door at the end of the hall, passing by the spartan décor of what was obviously a man's room, and a boring man at that. He creaked the door open slowly, wondering what secrets her room would reveal. What he found seemed to simultaneously complicate and clarify her personality.

The walls of the tiny room were lined with shelves, and the shelves were littered with every kind of game he could think of and more. There were two chess boards. One was well worn from years of use, the other comprised of intricately carved wooden pieces, highlighted with sparse accents of paint and tiny stones. Alongside the chess boards were other games: checkers, merelles, mancala, marbles, playing cards, horseshoes, dice, and various other playing boards that he didn't recognize. The shelf was devoid of any sort of evidence that the room had once belonged to a little girl, and instead gave way to that of a competitive spirit. When his eyes came to rest on the bed however, he smirked in fiendish satisfaction.

There, resting innocently against the pillow was small and aging rag doll. He walked over to the bed and picked up the thing, inspecting the valuable piece of incriminating evidence. It was made of worn burlap, no longer rough to the touch, with a few pieces of faded yellow yarn for hair. It was missing an eye, left with only a brown wooden button on the right side of its face, and its mouth was a crudely stitched line in a shape that could have resembled a smile if you stared hard enough at it. A small bit of lavender fabric was wrapped around its waist in a sort of makeshift skirt to identify the doll as a 'girl'. Bishop squeezed the thing in his hand, deducing it was stuffed with hay or some sort of grass. The thing was obviously homemade and at least as old as its owner, bringing a smirk to Bishop's face as he pondered the absolute schmaltziness of it.

"Hey! No boys allowed in my room!" the now adult owner exclaimed as she walked through the doorway behind him. Bishop turned around with an exploitative gleam in his eye, giving her a glimpse of the captive doll in his hand. Dilys turned an incredible shade of red at the realization, whether from embarrassment or anger Bishop could not tell. Most likely both.

"Interesting item we have here, little 'Dash'," he said, sizing up the doll in his hand. Dilys scowled at his use of her childhood nickname.

"Not a word Bishop," she said, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "Just... hand over the doll."

"I know you had said you could be sentimental, but this," he said, ignoring her command and giving the doll a squeeze. "This is _tragic_."

"I agree," she replied humorlessly. "I should probably hide it away so no villain can come along and use it to tug on my maudlin heartstrings. So give it here."

"I don't think so," Bishop said. "Since I found it sitting here unguarded on your bed, seems to me you don't have a safe place to keep it." He shot her a look that did not match his considerate phrasing. "It would be better off if I took care of it."

Dilys put her hand on her hip and gave him a threatening look. She knew from firsthand experience however, that trying to get Bishop to return something of hers was a wasted effort. So she simply stared him down for a moment, and when his eyes returned to the doll, her hand shot out to grab it from him. But Bishop proved that Dilys could not match his own speed and reflexes, and pulled the doll out of her reach, a smirk crawling across his face at her attempt.

"You'll have to do better than that little Dash," he goaded as he held the doll out away from her. They both knew that Dilys wouldn't be able to resist a direct challenge, and her stance suddenly became very serious. She made another attempt to retrieve the doll, but he swung it away from her, putting his body between Dilys and her prize. He grinned at the growing frustration evident on her red face.

"I don't think you really want this thing back at all," he teased, bringing the doll high into the air above her head. "I'm just not seeing the effort." Dilys scowled and stood on her toes, then jumped for the doll, only to be foiled by Bishop's height advantage and long arms. She huffed and moved closer, putting one hand on his shoulder to support her bandaged arm and stretching her body out against his as she reached up for the doll.

"Don't make me climb up you," she said, fingers barely within reach of the prize.

"How else are we going to get this honeymoon started?" he said, something intimate in his voice indicating he was only half joking. Dilys froze as she was suddenly aware of the situation. They were alone in the close quarters of her small bedroom, and she was pressed up against him with her hands all over him. She turned to look him in the eye, unprepared for what she would see there.

His gaze was uncharacteristically soft, strangely resigned, and ultimately... seductive. It was moments like these when she wondered if she enjoyed his company a bit too much.

"Umm..." A voice sounded from behind Dilys to interrupt her from Bishop's hypnotic stare.

Dilys quickly pushed away from Bishop and turned around to find Neeshka standing in her doorway. Bishop crossed his arms across his chest, clearly annoyed with the interruption. "Need something tiefling?" he asked, a threatening impatience tinting his voice.

"I had something to ask Dilys," Neeshka said, glancing over at the Aasimar. Dilys just seemed to be awkwardly scratching her head as she stared at the floor. Bishop glared at Neeshka for a moment longer, before he chanced a look at Dilys to see her uncomfortable stance. The moment had passed.

"Have at it," he replied nonchalantly, walking out of the room and heading back down the hall. Both women watched until the ranger had disappeared down the stairs before Neeshka turned back to Dilys.

"So..." the tiefling began. "Bishop huh?" Dilys gave an exasperated sigh and sat down on her small bed.

"Neeshka, I know you didn't travel all this way just to have girl talk about men," she said. Dilys had enough of her personal life on display from the moment they arrived at West Harbor. She certainly didn't want to advertise it any more, especially when she wasn't exactly sure what it was in the first place.

"You're right. I actually wanted to know about the sleeping arrangements," Neeshka said. "I figured us girls would be sleeping in your room..." She paused, giving Dilys an uncertain look. "But if you're planning on spending the night with Bishop..."

"Heh, as if that were ever a possibility..." Dilys cut in nervously. "You've got quite an imagination Neeshka. Bishop's probably going to sleep outside anyway. I know he's certainly not going to share a room with Casavir." Dilys rambled as she absentmindedly answered Neeshka, thinking more of how grateful she was that the tiefling showed up when she did. If she had stared into Bishop's eyes any longer, then she might have been sharing her room with him after all. The man had a dangerous ability to make her forget why she needed to stay away from him in the first place.

"Well, all right," Neeshka replied. "But I'm pretty good at keeping secrets, you know." She looked back at Dilys expectantly, who in turn looked through the doorway down the hall. Dilys did _not_ want to talk about her painfully inappropriate infatuation with the rugged ranger to Neeshka. She didn't even want to talk about it to Shandra, and she had already managed to find out about it.

"I know, Neeshka, but... I have to get started preparing dinner before it gets too late," she said hurriedly, getting up off the bed. "You and Shandra can stay here in my room. There's not really enough space for three people so I'll sleep downstairs." She ignored the dejected expression that fell onto Neeshka's face, and left the room.

* * *

><p>Dilys and her companions were gathered around her small dinner table, finishing off the chicken she had gotten from Retta Starling. Because of the conversation thus far, the Aasimar was beginning to regret inviting any of her companions on this little holiday. The best she could do was to simply keep her answers short and sweet, and hope that they would get the hint that maybe this was a subject she just didn't want to talk about.<p>

"But I think just seeing all these people you grew up with made me realize how little I actually know about you," Shandra said. "Today alone has been a bit of an eye opener."

"I'm assuming since your house is empty we won't be meeting any of your family this time around?" Sand asked.

"No," Dilys replied, keeping her eyes fixed on her plate. "No family."

"Your trainer Georg, he mentioned a Daeghun not being here." Casavir offered. "Is he your father?"

"_Foster_ father," she said, almost defensively. The atmosphere at the table became a little less comfortable at her quick response. After a brief silence, Dilys added, "He never seemed to like me much."

"But he raised you well, did he not?" Casavir asked.

"Well enough. He was just very distant," she replied. She could write a book on the problems Daeghun had with her, so she just threw out one that best described the nature of their relationship; resentful. "I believe he blames me for the death of his wife."

"You mean your mother?" Neeshka asked.

"No, my mother I never knew at all," Dilys corrected. "She's a mystery to me."

"So you're an orphan?" Shandra asked, her face suddenly becoming very sad. It seemed to Dilys that she was pitying her, and she began to get testy.

"Sure, if that's how you describe someone with an absentee foster father," she answered. "Look, my mother died trying to protect me in a battle in West Harbor. That's when I got this shard planted in my chest. I have no idea who my father is, and Daeghun gave me lodging, food, and chores, nothing more. I don't _have_ a family. So can we stop with the questions please?"

"I'm sorry..." Shandra started, but Dilys cut her off.

"Why?" she asked. "Just because I don't have a family doesn't mean I was any worse off. In fact, with Daeghun's hands-off approach I was free to gallivant about the village whenever I wanted." Dilys stood up, wary of the uneasiness that had settled onto the group. "I'm going to go set up the bedrooms for tonight. Clean up here if you like." She made her way upstairs while her companions remained at the table.

"Well, at least we know now why she can be a bit…" Sand began.

"Cold?" Neeshka suggested.

"I was going to say detached," he replied.

"We should not be talking about her when she is not present," Casavir said.

"Why not?" Neeshka asked. "She's what ties us all together, and it's really the only thing we have in common. What else would we talk about?"

"Architecture? Knitting? Sword Coast cuisine?" Sand ventured.

"I shouldn't have said anything," Shandra said quietly, then shook her head. "I can't even imagine what it'd be like growing up as an orphan."

"Your imagination must be pretty poor then," Bishop said, standing up from his seat. "Because it happens all the time _farmgirl_." Without another word he left the house, not so gently shutting the front door behind him.

"Did we just witness a display of empathy from Bishop, or has my wine been drugged?" Shandra asked.

"He obviously followed her all the way out here for a reason," Neeshka said. Dilys may not have been willing to tell her what was going on, but Neeshka knew what she saw. The look in Bishop's eyes when he looked at the Aasimar was more than just empathy. "Dilys must really be getting to him."

"Bishop cares for no one but himself," Casavir said sternly, before standing up and marching over to the fireplace on the far side of the house.

"Are we having a storming out contest or something?" Shandra asked discreetly.

"You gotta be pretty tough to live out in the swamp like this, I guess," Neeshka said. "Maybe everyone's just trying to fit in."

"If the unbeatable attitude of the Harbormen is so strong as to rub off on our companions after one evening in the village, then you may want to rethink your plan to rob them blind Neeshka," Sand said.

"I was only joking," she replied.

"I was not," Sand countered. Dinner was promptly ended after that exchange and the guests remaining at the table began to clean up.

* * *

><p>Bishop rose before dawn, eager to begin tracking his prey. He was now armed with the knowledge that Dilys would be watching the sunrise, and the morning presented a golden opportunity to intrude. He moved with expert silence through the pre-morning dusk as he stalked through the village. There wasn't a lot of ground to cover, so it wasn't long before he spotted her. He walked the long way around a large barn to avoid detection, and used the beard moss hanging from the swamp trees to mask his approach until he was close enough to his target.<p>

Perched there on a log facing the eastern sky, Dilys sat beside Brother Merring underneath an aging tree. He had hoped to find her alone, but from behind his curtain of moss he could easily eavesdrop on what they were saying. Bishop crouched low in the grass and strained his ears to listen. They were apparently already in mid-conversation.

"I'm afraid all this little adventure has revealed to me is my own naïveté ," Dilys said, a rueful smile etched onto her face. Merring cocked his head in question, and she continued with a sigh. "At one point we were following a group of Githyanki to their lair, when we came across the abandoned village of Ember. It was a trap of course, and we were ambushed. After we had dealt with the enemy, we learned that the village wasn't abandoned, and that they were all just cowering in their houses in fear."

"I see," Merring muttered, beginning to see where her train of thought was taking her.

"When I first learned this, I was confused. I've lived in West Harbor all my life. If there was ever a threat, we dealt with it, instead of hiding away and hoping someone else took care of it." She paused for a moment. "I had no idea people could be so utterly helpless," she said quietly. "Before we had reached Ember, I had been helping out plenty of people who requested my assistance in one way or another. But this _entire_ village couldn't even defend what was theirs." She frowned ever so slightly before finishing. "I would rather go down swinging than to give up without a fight."

Bishop smiled in satisfaction from his vantage point. When they were in Ember, she had called him a dog for saying such things. And now, it seemed, she had actually agreed with him.

"My dear girl, surely you understand that not everyone knows how to fight," Merring said with a soft laugh.

"Well, yes," she ventured. "Even West Harbor has people who are better suited to books than weapons. But we still have a militia, and every other town I had come across had people who were willing to fight over much less. Cutpurses at the Weeping Willow Inn, drunken sailors at Highcliff, and an entire war between gangs and the Watch in Neverwinter," she said. "All people willing to fight over practically nothing, and this village couldn't even fight for everything they had. They would probably have been massacred if we had not been there. And later on when we weren't, that ultimately became their fate." She bowed her head in frustration.

"I would not have wished that kind of death on anyone. But I keep imaging myself going back to when they were still alive and slapping some sense into them before something really bad happened." She brushed her hair away from her face with a sigh. "But I just went on my way, and even though I was found innocent of their deaths, their blood is still on my hands." Brother Merring looked at her with a heavy heart and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Dilys, there was no way you could have predicted what happened," Merring began. "And you can't save everyone, whether it is with swords or with words. The people of West Harbor are some of the strongest people I have ever met, both in skills and in character. It is your choice to either hurt or help others. But by helping them, people may learn from your example and strive to better themselves."

"Hmm," she murmured, taking his words in for reflection. "Well obviously I don't want to hurt people, I try to help when I can. But I don't want to be responsible for every person we come across either. I didn't ask to be anyone's savior, and every time I'm tasked with someone else's problems, my burdens become a little bit heavier." She turned to look at him. "I'm not sure how much more I can take before it crushes me."

"Well, you could have just stayed here and helped West Harbor with the repairs after the attack." Dilys looked at him with a little shock at the guilt he was placing on her. Merring chuckled slightly at her misconstruing of his words. "What I mean is that... you didn't stay because it was more important for you to leave. You have a sprawling destiny Dilys, and your main responsibilities are more than should be humanly possible. It's not realistic to think that you can take on the problems of everyone you meet as well." Dilys returned her gaze to the horizon, contemplating his statement.

"How do I decide which responsibilities to take and which to shun? What makes one cause more worthy than another?" she asked.

"That is a difficult question to answer, and one that may be different for every situation," Merring replied. "But anyone with a strong skill with weapons could have helped that village, not just you. This silver shard business rests entirely with you and your followers." He frowned slightly, a thought suddenly being brought to his attention. "Why do you need my ear to help you with such burdens Dilys? Your companions seem to be interested in your well being, I'm sure they'd be glad to offer their support." Dilys looked down at her hands, almost ashamed.

"I don't really talk to them about those sorts of things. Not unless they drag it out of me," Her voice got quieter with what she spoke next, "I think I see them as burdens sometimes too, even if they're only trying to help." The priest furrowed his brow at her reply. Even as a child she had been friendly enough, but kept everyone at arms length.

"Vulnerability doesn't equate to weakness when it's around the ones you love," he replied. Dilys turned to face him, as if trying to see his words. Before she could speak of anything more, the glowing curve of the sun began to peek over the trees, and they both fell silent as they watched the dawn break. The worry, guilt, and sorrow on Dilys's face washed away in the early morning light, leaving behind a serene visage. When the sun was firmly over the tree tops, Dilys spoke.

"Thank you Brother Merring," she simply said. He offered her a warm smile and then stood to leave, but seemed to form a knowing grin when he looked towards the village behind her.

"The morning warmth will do you good, child. You should sit here and reflect for a while," he said, before walking off towards his home. The view of what the monk was smiling at was obscured by the large barn from Bishop's view. He thought curiously of what it was for a moment before shrugging it off. Dilys was now in a good mood and it was the perfect time to strike.

He quietly stood to move but froze when he heard it; the sound of armored boots making their way to Dilys, and they were closer than he was. He crouched down just as the paladin passed into his field of vision and continued walking towards the makeshift bench. Bishop grit his teeth furiously as Casavir moved to sit beside her.

"Would you mind if I joined you?" Casavir asked, standing until he was granted permission to sit.

"Not at all," Dilys replied when she noticed him. She offered him a welcoming smile and gestured to the spot next to her. Casavir happily obliged.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the purples in the sky melt into the usual blues, before he spoke. "I am glad to see you enjoying your morning. I did not know you made it a habit of watching each sunrise."

"It is a custom for the followers of Lathander," she said plainly yet pleasantly.

"Yes," he replied softly. He was quiet for another moment, planning his words. "Lathander was closely allied with Tyr, and their paths would often intersect. It brings me great comfort to know that my leader's beliefs so closely resemble my own."

"You shouldn't need to know who I worship to realize that," she replied.

"I have wondered sometimes," Casavir began. "I have never doubted your judgment would lead us down the right path, but you seemed to… lack compassion. But after seeing where you grew up, and learning a bit more about you, I can begin to understand that the compassion was there all along, hidden under the surface from short sighted individuals such as myself." Dilys turned to look at his face, a soft smile growing on her features.

"Is that so?" she asked quietly.

"That is what I believe," he replied with a nod. "If I may..." he stopped with an uncertain pause before he began again. "I would like to join you for each sunrise from now on." Dilys looked at him for a long time before nodding slowly.

"I'd like that," she said. Casavir offered her a warm smile before speaking.

"I am glad I came on this trip," he said. Dilys smiled back at him.

"I'm glad you came too."

Bishop watched with disgust as the scene unfolded in front of him, before finally creeping away from the area without a sound. He had to move slowly, as it was only with great effort that he was able to move without stomping away in a rage. He walked as far away as he possibly could without leaving the village, and finally came to a stop underneath a willow tree, breathing heavily. He crossed his arms and leaned against the trunk, trying to calm his anger, as well as trying to understand it.

The paladin had irritated him to no end, and now he had interfered with his plans and caused a major setback. But this was just another challenge standing between him and his goal, and was certainly nothing he couldn't handle. Then why was he so _furious_? Bishop spent each day carefully plotting out his course, but it took all of his strength to not just march over and gut the paladin right then and there.

Of course, he knew _why_ he was angry. It wasn't simply because the paladin was getting in the way. It was because the paladin was getting in the way of _Dilys_. That metal marauder was going after _his_ game. It was just the intensity of his anger that surprised him. He was normally a bit more collected when things didn't go his way, and not compelled to instantly murder the offender.

Bishop brought a hand to his eyes and took a deep breath. Imagining skinning the paladin alive was doing nothing to calm his temper. He needed to think on how to fix this. It wouldn't matter if she was spending every morning with the damned paladin, as long as she wished she was spending it with himself instead.

He simply needed to make it known to Dilys that a dozen sunrises with the holy warrior was worth less than a single heated glance from the ranger. It was going to take more than innuendo and simply inserting himself into her affairs to get her to understand that. Dilys needed... an offer. A promise that the paladin couldn't really give her what she wanted, but he could.

And he would have to do it soon.

Bishop looked back across the village towards her house. Figures were milling about on the front steps in the early morning light, and everyone would likely be departing for Neverwinter within the hour. Bishop walked back to join the group with renewed purpose. He knew _exactly_ what to do.

* * *

><p><strong>And so Casavir steps up to the plate. Maybe he'll try talking about something other than Old Owl Well.<strong>

**As always, thanks for the reviews.**


	9. The Right Answer

"Lady Dashurie, you will be silent this instant, or you will be waking up tomorrow in prison," Nasher demanded from his comfortable position on the throne. He was _not _pleased.

"I'd rather spend the night alone in a Neverwinter jail, than have to share an audience with that Luskan sow," Dilys snarled bitterly. Sir Nevalle's jaw dropped nearly to the floor, and Lord Nasher ground his teeth.

"So be it. Guards, arrest her," Nasher commanded. A couple of the dumbstruck guards quickly collected themselves and moved towards her, wary of her fighting prowess, as well as her companions. She stepped forward and allowed them to take hold of her on each side so they could escort her to the prison.

"Dilys, no!" Shandra cried. "I'm all for proving a point but this is ridiculous!" Dilys kept her head high and her gaze straight as the guards marched her to the exit.

"I meant what I said," she muttered. "And I'm going to damn well prove it." Shandra followed her to the exit while Sand apologized to Lord Nasher, attempting to explain that Dilys would be much more obedient after her night in prison. Bishop simply hung back and watched the spectacle unfold with great amusement. Traveling with this party was never boring.

* * *

><p>Cormick hated paperwork.<p>

Captain Brelaina knew this. So it seemed every time he expressed distaste with her tactics, she developed some sort of reason to go home early and leave Cormick with the paperwork as an indirect sort of reprimand. It wasn't even paperwork for the more pressing crimes either. It was mostly just infractions with a few minor misdemeanors mixed in. And it was no different tonight. Cormick was the only watchman still at the station, hunched over Brelaina's desk to record the case of the man who had discarded his trash in the temple courtyard. So when company arrived, he was all too happy for the change of pace.

"What the devil is going on here?" Cormick exclaimed when Dilys was brought into the Watch headquarters by the guards.

"I've been arrested," Dilys calmly answered, seemingly unaffected by the turn of events.

"I can see that," Cormick blustered. "But why?" He looked to the two guards with an accusing glare. He knew Dilys had nearly single-handedly cleaned up Back Alley. He found it difficult to believe such a promising young member of the watch could have done something to merit an arrest, and by castle guards at that.

"Well, she mouthed off to Lord Nasher, sir," the guard to her right replied, gesturing with a sort of small helpless shrug.

"What happened?" Cormick asked, turning to Dilys. She mirrored the shrug the guard had just given.

"He was listening to some Luskan mouthpiece try to claim that they had nothing to do with all their recent stunts," she replied, putting on a sardonic face. "Seeing how a few of their emissaries went out of their way to personally have me executed, I was not exactly convinced." Cormick furrowed his brow in response. The girl usually had her heart in the right place but she seemed to lack common sense sometimes.

"I agree with you Dilys, you know I do. But it should be the Luskans to be jailed, not you. What good does arguing with Nasher do if the only outcome is to keep you in prison instead of out on the streets where you're needed most?" Cormick sighed before continuing, "Besides, we have treaties with them to prevent all out war."

She gave a tired smirk before replying, "As if the Luskans give a damn about those treaties. They were signed to protect them, not us. It's just writing on parchment that Nasher is pandering to, despite the fact that he has more control over what that writing says than anyone." She crossed her arms across her chest, pulling the guards forward along with them. "So let's just get this over with. I won't be tempted to punch anybody if I'm imprisoned." The guards glanced at each other nervously before giving silent pleading looks to Cormick.

"All right, you'll spend the night in the cell here," Cormick responded. "I'm not sending you off to Neverwinter Penitentiary, I don't care what you're trying to prove."

"Fine with me," she said, pulling her arms from the guards' grasp and following Cormick over to the cell. They stood around awkwardly for a bit longer before Cormick dismissed them.

"I'm going to need to strip you of your armor," he told her while unlocking the cell door. She perked a suggestive brow.

"You ask that of all your female detainees or just me?" she questioned, unbuckling her breastplate. Cormick gave a small incredulous chuckle.

"We ask that of everyone," he replied with an assuring grin. "I'll probably need those too," he mentioned, gesturing to the sticks in her hair. She gave a knowing smile before removing them, allowing her silvery Aasimar locks to fall around her shoulders and come to a rest at the small of her back.

"Are you sure you don't have any ulterior motives Comrick?" Dilys teased. The boys of West Harbor were always so quick to blush, and Dilys couldn't help but to treat the hapless Watchman the same way.

"Nah, I'm too old for you anyway," he replied with a shake of his head, not denying Dilys the blush she secretly sought.

"Not any older than Casavir," Dilys mused.

"Your paladin friend?" Cormick asked, recognizing the name but unable to make a connection to himself. "What about him?"

"Never mind," Dilys muttered, a whisper of a smile playing on her lips. "Here," she pulled off the armor and handed it to him. Cormick set it over in the contraband storage while Dilys walked into the cell and shut the door behind her.

"You've got to be the easiest prisoner I've had to baby-sit in my entire career on the Watch," Cormick said with a smirk.

"You know me," she replied, lying back on the makeshift bed that was chained to the wall. "I don't like to cause a fuss." He scoffed in response before sitting down at Captain Brelaina's desk and returning to the leftover paperwork. Dilys hadn't closed her eyes for five minutes before she was interrupted by Shandra's voice.

"That _can't_ be comfortable," Shandra said of the thin pallet tacked onto what served as a bed in the small prison. Dilys sat up to find Shandra and Sand standing outside of her cell. They had apparently traveled directly from the castle, and Dilys took note of her missing companion.

"Where's Bishop?" she asked, tying to ignore the twinge of disappointment tugging at the far corners of her mind.

"Back at the Flagon I assume," Sand replied. "Perhaps telling the others about your _inspired _speech and its inevitable result." His droll tone never seemed to escape his voice.

"Or just avoiding everyone else and drinking alone in his little corner like usual," Shandra chimed in.

"Do you guys need something?" Dilys asked. "Or did you just come to point and laugh at the lunatic in the cage."

"I managed to convince Lord Nasher that you only responded so _idiotically_ because of your great compassion for Neverwinter," Sand answered. "He agreed to let you out if you apologize for questioning his authority." He sniffed with dissatisfaction before continuing. "Now that the Hostower mage has left, you might be able to respond in a sane manner and avoid spending the night in this foul smelling little space." Cormick looked over with a defensive glance but stayed out of the conversation. _He _didn't seem to think it smelled so bad.

Dilys put her hands on her knees and hunched over before saying, "I rather like the smell actually. It reminds me of home." Realization dawned on Cormick's face as he finally recognized the swampy smell of mildew.

"Come on Dilys, this is absurd," Shandra pleaded.

"Didn't you know, Shandra?" Dilys asked with a grin. "'Absurdity' is my middle name."

"Really," Sand mused. "I thought it was 'Moronic'." Dilys cocked her head to the side and raised her eyebrows at him.

"Do you _always_ do what Nasher tells you Sand?" she asked, not bothering to mask the incredulity in her voice.

"Yes, actually," he replied. "It tends to keep me out of prison." Dilys leaned back and crossed her arms across her chest.

"Well I prefer principles over orders," she said. "Besides, I'm not doing anything wrong. Just think of it as civil disobedience. You've studied about that somewhere in your many books, I'm sure." Sand narrowed his eyes as if to convey that he understood her point but didn't agree with it. "Now go back to the Flagon and have a drink. And _don't _let the others come visit me. They'll just get the same response." She moved to lie back down on the pallet before saying, "Just tell them I'm having the time of my life."

"Ugh!" Shandra yelled in frustration before storming out of the building.

"Be prepared for plenty of verbal lashings when you return," Sand bid to Dilys, before quickly following behind to make sure Shandra didn't crash into anything in her blind fury.

* * *

><p>Dilys's sentence had started early in the evening, and her attempts to fall asleep had been in vain. After a couple of uneventful hours, she had resorted to the random dawdling a child would engage in when he has to stand in line with his mother for a long period of time. She was hanging her head between the iron bars with her hands gripping those on each side, and was swaying her body back and forth to watch the play of shadows from the torch-light behind her when she heard the door open. She looked up to see Casavir step into the room, give a curt nod to Cormick at the desk, and walk over to her cell.<p>

Straightening up, she gave him a weak smile before saying, "I thought I told the others I didn't want anymore visitors."

"I was unsure of your motives for going against Lord Nasher's orders," he replied. "And wanted to discuss them with you."

"I told Sand to relay my message to everyone back at the Flagon," Dilys said. "Did he not tell you?"

"We received that message, yes," Casavir said. He looked a bit uncomfortable, as if he was unsure how to go about saying what he wanted to. "I was simply... concerned that perhaps you were operating under someone else's influence."

"Well, I am pretty angry with Luskan, if that's what you mean," she said, confusion tinting her voice.

"Not Luskan. The ranger Bishop," he replied, his voice growing steady.

"Bishop?" Dilys echoed. She was surprised Casavir could even stomach talking about him at all, considering how they acted towards one another.

"I do not trust him, and I do not like the way he looks at you," he said, putting his hands on the cell bars.

"Why do you say that?" Dilys asked. Casavir not trusting Bishop was a given, but why would he bring up the way Bishop looks at her? _Hells, I get shivers from the way he looks at me_, she thought to herself.

"Because he is a predator, manipulative and dangerous," Casavir answered. "If you do not watch yourself, you may find him influencing both your words and actions." Dilys couldn't hold back her smile at his particular phrasing.

"You realize Georg said the same of me back in West Harbor?" she said.

"Yes, but it was clear he was talking about your behavior in your rebellious youth," Casavir replied. Dilys tilted her head and gave him a cryptic smile.

"Was he?" she asked. Casavir froze, seemingly struck speechless by the mere possibility. Not a sound passed between them until Dilys gave a small laugh. "I appreciate your concern Casavir, but I won't be so easily controlled. _I'm_ the leader of this group and I make my own decisions. And I decided to defy Nasher to prove a point." Casavir tore his icy blue eyes away from hers for a moment of introspection.

"Forgive me," he said. "It is not my affair. I only felt... compelled to warn you."

"You left Neverwinter on principles Casavir. You wanted to do what you thought was right, not what you were commanded to. I'm doing the same."

"Very well," he said. "But I do not think you will accomplish much by staying here tonight." She gave him a reassuring smile.

"Well, now Nasher knows I won't be forced into anything." She stepped away from the bars and sat back on the bed. "Now go get some rest. That's what I plan to do."

Casavir bid her goodnight, and promptly left the building.

"Seems your friends just can't live without you Dilys," Cormick said once they were alone again. Dilys smiled weakly at his joke and brushed her hair back from her face. "I have to lock up for the night soon. I'm not going to have to worry about you here all alone am I?" he asked.

"Were you thinking of joining me in my cell Cormick?" she asked slyly.

"No no, I'm sure you can take care of yourself," he replied, his face turning red. West Harbor boys were too easy.

Dilys leaned back and considered what Casavir had said to her. There were many things that bothered her about that conversation. The simplest being Casavir's usual problem. He was overprotective, and tended to act like Dilys couldn't take care of herself. But it was just part of his chivalric code, and it wouldn't change no matter how capable she proved herself.

But he wasn't just worried for her well being, he was worried that she could be manipulated. As if she were so weak willed that she would just follow along with what someone else told her. Granted, it was Bishop that she was being warned against, and she knew she had a particular blind spot when it came to him. But she still had self control, no matter what the ranger did to sway her.

That was another problem. Casavir may have had a particular dislike for Bishop, but he seemed to recognize that the ranger had a greater impact on Dilys than the paladin did, or any other of her companions. If Shandra, Neeshka, and even Casavir could discern something between Dilys and Bishop when nothing had even happened, then she wasn't being as careful as she should. If it appeared to other people that she was getting carried away with him, then it was very likely that she would.

Dilys felt exhausted just thinking about it. She certainly wasn't dealing with the simple farmers of West Harbor anymore. Maybe she should leave Bishop behind more often, only bring him along when he was needed as a scout. She laid back down on the bed and closed her eyes, hoping to finally get some sleep.

* * *

><p>Dilys awoke to the sound of metal hitting metal, and for a moment, was completely unaware of her surroundings. She sat up quickly to be greeted by the darkened headquarters of the Watch, straining her eyes to clear the sleep from them. Standing just outside of her cell a dark figure was running a dagger back and forth along the bars, effectively creating a distracting wake up call. The moonlight streaming through the small barred window did not reach him, and it took Dilys a moment for her eyes to adjust to realize it was Bishop who had woken her.<p>

"How did you get in here?" she asked him, bringing her feet out of the bed and placing them on the cold floor. "I doubt they leave the Watch headquarters open at night." He stopped the movement of the dagger and gave a lazy shrug in response.

"I picked the lock. I'm no master locksmith but the security they have on this place is pretty lax. It's no wonder they had a crime problem." Dilys was silent for a moment, trying to figure out if she was still asleep. The angle of the shadows on the floor signaled that it was well into the middle of the night.

"Why are you here so late?" she asked. Directness didn't usually work with Bishop, but the fog of sleep that was just now lifting from her mind didn't allow her any witty comments.

"With the little parade of visitors you've had this evening, I decided to wait until the place had closed down," Bishop replied. "I don't like having an audience."

"And I was sure I had you pegged as an exhibitionist," Dilys remarked, running her hand through her long hair in an attempt to flatten her bed head.

"Are you asking for a private show?" he asked. Dilys couldn't help thinking of that night in Blacklake, where she stole an eyeful of his chiseled form without him knowing. She blushed furiously at the mental image. The last thing she needed was thoughts of Bishop naked when the man himself was standing alone before her in a dark and empty room. If she wasn't careful, it would be all too easy for logic and restraint to give way to the more primal instincts.

Dilys shook her head to clear it of imagery. She just needed to hear what Bishop had to say to her, then get him out of there and go back to sleep. She stood up from the pallet and walked over to the cell bars, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I suppose I can handle one more lecture," she said with a dramatic sigh. "Let's hear it." Even in the dark she could see the look in Bishop's eyes was calculating.

"Hmm," he said with mock contemplation. "I was just wondering why you wanted this little vacation of yours here. The trip to West Harbor wasn't all that long ago, after all."

"West Harbor was an interrogation, not a vacation," Dilys said, rolling her eyes. "So I suppose I can see why you'd confuse that with my night in prison."

"Not planning a return trip home then," Bishop said. He brought his dagger back up and inserted it into the lock on the cell door to fiddle with the mechanism.

"I've had enough of that swamp to last me a lifetime," she replied, doubtful that he could pick the lock of a prison cell with a knife. "Besides, our little visit showed me that everyone there seemed to get on just fine without me."

"So that's what the big show against Nasher is for," he said, carefully guiding the conversation. "You aren't going back to West Harbor, so this shard-bearer business doesn't concern you any more."

"What? No!" She brought both her hands up to wave away the notion. "I'm not _giving up_. I still want my hometown to be safe again, even if it means I'll never go back."

"What's the point of protecting it if you're never going to see it again?" Bishop asked, unable to hide his annoyance at the foolishness of such behavior.

"I'm a sentimentalist remember?" she said with a weary smile. "Maybe I won't be able to enjoy the particular company of the harbormen anymore, but I'm still part of the West Harbor militia, and I plan on doing what I can to help protect the town."

"And here I'd hoped you'd finally come to your senses," he mocked. "But now I know the _real_ reason you're spending the night here."

"Oh do you?" Dilys asked dubiously.

"You see, I think you just wanted an exit" he began. "A departure from all the responsibilities that have been heaped on to your willing shoulders. A chance to get away from the clamoring of the helpless, always looking to you to do things for them. Or maybe just one night alone with your thoughts, away from the companions that never seem to want to stop telling you how they feel…"

A small clicking sound came from the cell door as it was unlocked.

"Or those that don't."

Dilys felt inexplicably frightened at the thought of opening the cell door, and immediately her hand flew to Bishop's fingers, in an attempt to remove the dagger. She instantly regretted it though, as the sensation of skin against skin suddenly arose and would not be ignored. She froze in that position, her eyes locked on the offending appendage as if it had betrayed her by joining the enemy.

Cautiously, she glanced up to his face to find his penetrating eyes on hers, dangerously close to her face. She held his stare for a moment, searching for something recognizable, some sort of bearing to keep her from getting lost in the field of brown that comprised his gaze. But her efforts were in vain, and she felt disoriented, as if she had crossed into an unfamiliar environment. She could not read him, and the fact that she wanted to so badly made it even more unsettling.

She then looked away and slid her hand off of his with a sigh, a strange sort of inexplicable disappointment settling in the pit of her stomach. Whether she was disappointed in him or herself, she could not tell. Dilys was unable to determine if Bishop was being sardonic or sincere, but he was right. She _did_ need a night alone. A moment of solace without any distractions in which she could clear her mind and focus her determination. But all she had accomplished was to prove that too many people depended on her for her to simply run and hide. She would just be hunted down.

Dilys took a small step back from the bars and faced the opposite way, trying to hide her irrational disappointment at loosing something she never had. She needed Bishop to leave.

"If you believe what you say to be true, then why did you come here? Just want to deny me what I want?" There were a million words in between the ones she had just spoken, all just as potent as the audible ones. She could practically hear him smirking behind her.

"I _know_ what I say to be true, and I came here to offer a way out," he replied. Before Dilys could turn around and question him, Bishop reached his arms into the cell and snaked them around her waist, pulling her close to him faster than she could react.

If it weren't for the bars between them, her back would be pressed flat up against his chest. She squirmed slightly in protest, to which he responded by shifting one arm across her shoulders and wrapping his other arm tighter around her waist before bringing his face in close to her ear. He inhaled deeply to gather her scent, as if taking in her unique musk of swamp moss and aniseed could reveal to him all of her secrets.

"You could just run from this, and you and I could go find some hidden trail somewhere and _camp_ for a year or two," he said in a silky voice, his breath hot on her ear. Of course, there was so much more to camping than simply _camping_. And it was those other activities that Dilys found flashing through her mind. She swallowed hard, suddenly finding her mouth very dry. Bishop noticed this motion, however, and dragged his hand across her collar bone from her shoulder to rest his fingers on her neck. Dilys did her best not to swallow again under his hand.

"Is that an offer or just another snide remark?" she managed to say lightly without stammering. Keeping her composure intact was key in this situation. If things progressed too far, she didn't know if she could stop it. She felt her breathing become labored under the effort.

"I don't know…" he mused, idly tracing his fingers along her neck. "If it _was_ an offer, what would you say?" She knew how to respond to that question. It was not a matter desire, but one of duty. Despite what she _wanted_, she knew there could only be one right answer.

"I'd say yes," she replied, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them.

That was _not_ the right answer.

He dipped his head and chuckled softly, his whiskers tickling the back of her neck. "Now now, that wouldn't make the paladin very happy to hear that. And we don't want to make him mad now would we?" he asked in a patronizing tone.

For some reason, the mention of 'the paladin' found Dilys suddenly feeling angry. The idea that Casavir had somehow laid claims on her without so much as a romantic gesture frustrated her to no end. She had great respect for the man, but his perpetual staidness prevented any sort of connection between them. She resented the fact that she had no sway over how he behaved towards her, and that he still retained the right to 'court' her without any participation on his part. Bishop watched with amused interest as her face contorted into a sneer.

"Casavir's faith can keep him warm. Or keep him cold for that matter," she replied sullenly, feeling inexplicably violated by Casavir when Bishop was the one pinning her in place.

"Ah you warm my heart, you really do. I _love_ that in a woman," he purred into her ear. "Mean and sharp-tongued. Ah well, poor paladin. You win some, you loose some."

A wave of guilt washed over Dilys at his words. She didn't want to be known as a mean person, and though Casavir may be stoic, he had never done her any harm. She clenched her jaw in shame, and broke free of Bishop's grasp. He let her pull away from him and studied her when she turned around to face him. Her countenance was a mixture of anger and pain.

"You make me cruel," she whispered hoarsely. Bishop locked his eyes with hers and lowered his head.

"I don't _make_ you anything," he stated plainly. "You simply dropped your guard and said what you've been thinking all along." He gave an impatient sigh before continuing. "You may have some celestial blood running through your veins, but you're still only human. You have black spots on your soul just as I do. The only difference between you and me is that I don't try to ignore them." Dilys broke eye contact and scoffed slightly.

"And I'm supposed to just revel in cruelty am I?" she asked, her intonation conveying her disgust.

"Sure," he drawled. "If that does it for you. Or you could just act how you really feel without caring what anyone else thinks." He leaned in through the bars, and in a low voice said, "You should speak your mind more often. Your _real_ opinions are far more potent." His gaze fiercely held her eyes on his, an indication that he was saying far less than what he meant. After a tense pause, he straightened up and stepped back from the cell.

"I _loved _your little performance earlier today, by the way," he said, his tone suddenly much lighter. "But it would have been much more interesting if you had put up a fight before your arrest." He strode over to the door to leave but stopped, and turned. "In the mean time, I'll keep our escape option open for when things get rough." With a final smirk, he ducked out the door, letting his promise linger behind.

Dilys slumped back onto the bed, completely exhausted by her encounter with Bishop. She felt foolish to be so easily seduced, especially since she had been determined to hold steady against his advances. _So much for self control_, she thought.

What she _should_ have done was kicked him where it really hurt, and tell him to stick his offer where the sun don't shine. Yet her logic seemed to fail her when he whispered it into her ear as he had. Instead of keeping herself closed off to him, she'd just thrown up a big open for business sign. She'd have to buckle down and work double time to make sure their relationship stayed strictly professional.

_Or_...

She could simply sneak into his room at night, and this exhaustive battle of wills would be over.

"No," Dilys said to herself. No matter what Bishop said to her, it was always clear that he didn't really respect her as a woman. He didn't seem to respect any woman for that matter, and to fall into bed with such a man would only be degrading.

Dilys could not deny her attraction to him, both physically and to his challenging personality. But she had her pride, and felt no desire to devalue her integrity by giving in to someone that could ignore it. Besides, as offensive as he was, she enjoyed his company. Taking that final step with him would only prompt him to leave, and she didn't want that. No, her path was clear: stay away from Bishop.

* * *

><p><strong>This was one of the first chapters I had written, so the tone is all over the place. :**


	10. Viper

Bishop moved through the shadows silently, adjusting the last of the oil soaked shrubs before moving to a safe distance. His Luskan masters unwittingly sat within the boundaries of the trap he had laid, ignorant of the fiery death that awaited them. The villagers would share the same fate, although he had tried to warn them. He had wanted to destroy the gods forsaken village that had spawned him, and the Luskan initiation ceremony was a golden opportunity to do so, as well as destroying those who seemed so keen on giving him orders.

Since it very soon would not matter what he did here this night, he didn't feel particularly obligated to kill the villagers as well. But the fools ignored Bishop when he told them to leave, and they would die for it. Even now, before he had lit the fires, they were trapped. Their deaths were certain.

As he crouched down behind a distant bush he had soaked with water, he readied his multitude of arrows. The fires were designed to spiral inwards towards the town to prevent escape, but should anyone make it out alive, he would finish them off. He reached for a single arrow, the one that had a fire enchantment on it. The scent that came off of the arrow was smoky, but to Bishop it smelled like freedom. He pulled the arrow back in his bowstring, and said a content farewell to Red Fallow's Watch.

He released the arrow with a twang, and watched as it soared through the night sky. It burst into flames at the apex of its course, and sailed downward aiming to ignite the strategically placed foliage. The whole flight seemed to take forever, time slowing down as Bishop's heart beat a hurried pace in his chest. When the arrow finally reached the earth however, its path was intersected with that of a sword, slicing the projectile from the sky to land harmlessly in a patch of dry dirt.

Bishop sprung up from behind the bush in surprise, and glared out at the figure that owned the blade. It was difficult to see with only the pale light of the moon for illumination, but that wouldn't stop Bishop from eliminating the problem. Drawing his own sword, he gritted his teeth in anger and stomped through the village to personally take down the human obstacle.

"I won't let you kill these people!" Dilys shouted at him when he had come within hearing range. Bishop paused for a moment in his march. This wasn't right. He brought his free hand up to his forehead and closed his eyes to try to sort things out. What was he doing again? He shook his head to clear it and continued storming towards her. He had set out to destroy this worthless village and no one was going to stand in his way. Dilys stood confidently in place waiting for him to reach her, the Light of Lathander by her side and his broken arrow at her feet.

"You shouldn't be here," he spoke calmly, not yet within the range of her greatsword. He didn't know how she got to the middle of the town without him noticing. Bishop was very careful to make sure no one was around while he was setting his trap, and considering Dilys should still be living out a peaceful farming life in West Harbor at this time, he wondered even more.

"I'm here," she stated, a look of determination fixed on her face. "To stop you." She brought her sword up slowly and pointed the blade at him, daring him to come any closer. Bishop looked around in confusion. Where was the rain of Luskan arrows to take her down? For that matter where were the villagers? There was no sign of another soul within miles of the town, and they stood alone bathed in moonlight. A moment like this would be ideal for a more intimate exchange, yet she was pointing her greatsword at him, ready to kill for the villagers that didn't seem to exist.

"There's no one else Bishop," Dilys said, as if to read his mind. "It's just you and me." She looked down her nose at him and sneered. "And I'm going to make sure you can never destroy a village of innocents again." Bishop's anger surged at her remark.

She had no right to judge him. Those villagers deserved to die. He was only returning their lack of compassion to a poor orphan boy like himself. If they hadn't been so selfish and neglectful this would never have happened in the first place. But they turned a blind eye to his suffering, ignoring the hungry pleas of a starving child, so he was only making sure they burned in this life and the next. The thought of his despicable childhood disgusted him, and he lunged at her in frustration, sword in hand.

He staggered when he connected with nothing, having completely missed his mark. He had landed to the right of her, his aim shifting somewhere along the way to miss her entirely. Dilys stood still, watching him regain his balance without even bothering to take on a defensive stance. She turned to face him and planted her sword in front of her, the flickering light reflecting off of the blade. Bishop wiped his brow from the heat and stood up straight. When had the buildings caught fire? He surveyed the area, realizing that somehow he had become caught in his own trap, and the flames were slowly circling towards them.

"We're _both_ going to die if we don't get out!" he yelled at her, unsure whether he was pleading for his life or hers. She only looked at him, the flash of that irresistible smile he had seen in West Harbor on her face, and suddenly gone again. He growled in frustration, trying in vain to turn around and walk away, only to find himself facing her again.

"You fight to kill people Bishop, I fight to save them," she said. "How could you possibly think I would ever respect you?"

"I don't _want_ your respect," he spat angrily, advancing on her.

"No, you _need_ it," she replied. "What would you do without it? Go back to drinking away all thought in the local tavern? You'll die first."

"Don't make me laugh. I can take care of myself without your or anyone else's help, and that includes your damnable uncle." He took a swipe at her, but came up short, as he had apparently misjudged the distance between them. The fire raged closer as if angry that he had attacked her.

"You're in too deep now," Dilys said. "You can't possibly escape without getting burned." She was closer to him suddenly, standing right in front of him with her face mere inches away from his. "It would be better if you just let yourself be consumed by the flames," she continued in a low voice. "Otherwise you'll have to face the flames of the hells instead."

"Oh I can escape the fire all right," Bishop seethed. "And I can start by killing you." He swung his sword fiercely at her, only for it to clash noisily against the cold metal of her greatsword. He slashed again at her, then again and again. Yet she didn't even move, and he still wasn't hitting her. His blade only struck her greatsword over and over. The sword that wasn't even moving to block his attacks.

He ceased his assault after such a lack of effect, and stared hard at her, breathing heavily. She simply looked back at him stoically, something unidentifiable lurking in the fire's reflection in her eyes. Bishop dropped his sword into the dirt, and wordlessly took a step towards her. She cast her eyes down, veiling them with her thick lashes as he neared her. When she looked back up again, her eyes were furious, burning with a hatred reserved for only the most despicable of enemies. At last she struck him, not with her sword but with a swift kick to the chest, sending Bishop falling backwards as the world fell away beneath him and everything went dark.

Bishop opened his eyes slowly, his sight blurred from repose. The fire's roar had been reduced to a mere crackle, and the light it offered was soft and warm. He blinked to clear his vision, and then felt the presence of a pair of hands on his chest. He looked upward to discover the familiar golden eyes still hovering over him. Finding his strength no longer sapped, he immediately flipped Dilys off of him and pinned her back to the ground, swiping his dagger from its sheath and bringing it to her throat.

Dilys's eyes went wide with surprise at his sudden movement, not expecting him to suddenly pounce on top of her. His free hand gripped her shoulder painfully. His features were contorted into an angry grimace, and his eyes feral, the intent to kill written plainly across his face. Dilys quickened her breathing as she felt a trickle of blood form where the tip of his blade connected with her neck. He was really going to kill her if she couldn't snap him back to his senses and fast.

Very cautiously, Dilys brought the one hand that wasn't pinned between them up to Bishop's face. Her motions were sluggish, allowing for no sudden movements on her part. She slowly trailed her fingers through his short maple locks to bring her hand to rest behind his ear, keeping her touch gentle and innocuous. Swallowing carefully under the knife, she forced her breathing to a steady pace.

"Bishop…" she said calmly, the fear hidden from her voice. His grimace melted into wary confusion at the sound, her voice being of so clear a pitch it was as if it was penetrating directly into his head. Dilys felt his grip slacken ever so slightly, giving her the chance to slowly pull her other arm out from between them.

Never once breaking eye contact, she placed her hand on his, entwining her fingers around his own so that she could gain control of his knife. She kept her touch light, her skin barely brushing up against his own, giving him cause to wonder if she was really touching him at all. Applying as little pressure as possible, she carefully guided the dagger away from her throat, all the while gently caressing the back of his head.

The weapon discarded, she slid her hand off of his and trailed it up his arm to set it on the other side of his head. She licked her lips carefully, and swallowed again. A flicker of uncertainty flashed across her features, before she returned her confident gaze to Bishop's eyes. At a measured pace, she inched his face down closer to hers, until their noses were almost touching. Her breathing quickened again, before she drew a deep breath.

"Wake up," she whispered, certain that she had his undivided attention here in the now. Bishop's brow furrowed and he blinked several times before his eyes widened in realization. He sprang backward, putting as much distance between them as he could from a single motion.

He glanced around their surroundings, noting the sleeping forms of Grobnar, Khelgar, and Shandra circling the small campfire. The silhouette of the Sword Mountains loomed in the sky behind them, hiding their little group from the light of the moon. His eyes darted back to Dilys, finding her sitting up and gingerly rubbing her neck. She had smeared the trickle of blood that had formed there in the process, creating a dark stain that stood out on her pale skin. Her eyes met his, lingering there for an instant of uneasiness before she moved over to her bedroll.

"Your watch," she said quietly, not daring to look at him again. He watched her for a while, forgetting himself for a surreal moment as she cleaned off with her water skin before lying down. She lay on her side facing away from him, choosing to ignore the situation instead of confronting it.

Bishop wondered briefly whether she was doing it out of cowardice or consideration, before deciding not to dwell on it. It was easier this way anyway. He didn't want to discuss what led him to attack her after she had been merely trying to wake him up. But being the sole person awake on their little trek to find recruits for Crossroad Keep left him with nothing but his own thoughts for company.

He wasn't sure what bothered him more; that he couldn't kill Dilys while dreaming, or that he couldn't kill her when he was awake.

Bishop didn't put much stock in dreams. He normally wrote off so-called prophetic dreams as the ravings of a drunkard or lunatic and scoffed at the idea of them being messages from the heavens. Even enjoyable dreams were nothing more than random thoughts flowing through his mind. But that was what was bothering him. That Dilys could command such a prominent position in his thoughts was one thing, but dreaming about her in such an emotionally naked manner was another.

He'd had some _very_ pleasant dreams about her before, but he had always been the one in control. This dream on the other hand, had wrested control away from him to be delivered to her capable hands, leaving him completely powerless in the process. In what should have been an effortless sparring match he had been utterly incompetent. He wasn't just losing to her, he was completely unable to fight her.

Then there was the added offense of Red Fallow's Watch... the incriminating secret he had harbored for so long from the face of the law, and the same secret which had inadvertently bound him to Dilys in the first place through family blackmail. Not only had she intruded into one of the most private recesses of his memory, but she had completely overturned it. The destroyed village was kept to close himself, linked to the most guarded areas of his thoughts, and yet, through his own sleeping mind, he had delivered it to her.

Why? She had no business being a part of his personal thoughts. The only thoughts he should be having about her were taking advantage of her and causing her pain. Instead he was left with fear of her righteous judgment, which was a ridiculous notion in and of itself. She was probably more lenient with him than anyone else in their group, despite his views very often being the polar opposite of her own. Had his dream been a reality, he doubted she would be able to bring herself to kill him even if she had no other choice. She was a sentimentalist after all.

Although she was not a threat to his life, the threat she presented to his judgment was a very real danger. He knew he was attracted to her. He'd had lewd thoughts about her from the instant she set foot in the Sunken Flagon. But he had killed beautiful women before. He never let a little animal magnetism get in the way of his true goal. But with Dilys, it was something more than attraction. Something much more dangerous.

If he became attached to her emotionally, he wouldn't be able to do his duty when the time came. His inability to slit her throat when he woke up, especially since he thought he was still dreaming, was testament to that fact. He needed to make sure he came out on top in the end no matter what, and even a delayed reaction on his part due to some ridiculous sentiment could be fatal. The absolute surefire way to make sure that never happened was to get away from her as fast as she could.

Bishop briefly thought of killing her right were she slept. They were in the middle of nowhere, and he would be able to disappear completely while eradicating his debt. But if anything he felt like sticking around longer, and not because of some vague semblance of affection.

He was tantalized by a glimpse of the lauded predator of West Harbor.

When she was put into a position of uncompromisable danger, she didn't flee like some scared fawn. Rather, she became a deadly viper, hypnotizing him into submission with only an alluring glance and the barest of touches to his skin. The idea of Dilys preying on the boys of her hometown in her youth was something to laugh at before. She had never shown any hint of a seductress beneath her fearless leader facade. But after she had baited him so easily that he had almost believed his dream was about to take a sudden pleasurable turn, he knew better.

The stakes had just been upped all around, and he wasn't one to back away from a challenge. Not when he wanted the prize so badly. She obviously was accustomed to the game of cat and mouse, and he was going to have to double his efforts if he wanted to snare her. The trick was to do it without getting snared himself. It was a dangerous game he was playing, and he knew it. But he also knew his own strengths and weaknesses, while gradually learning hers.

He would just need to proceed carefully, and be wary of any situations that endangered his reasoning. Leaving now and giving up would mean admitting defeat, admitting weakness. Worst of all it would be admitting that he was no match for her. Far from it. Dilys was a serpent having grown up in a world of mice, never having to do battle with the mongoose. To Bishop, his goal was clear. He wasn't going to fear her. He was going to conquer her.

And he was going to _relish_ doing it.

* * *

><p><strong>Hordes of the Underdark presented a hell that's all cold and snowy, but I'm pretty sure one of the hells is made up of the traditional fire and brimstone. I was never really clear on who ends up where after they die in the Forgotten Realms.<strong>


	11. Destruction

Dilys stared slack jawed at the nightmare before her, her face devoid of any sign of life. Shandra, Khelgar, Casavir and Zjhaeve stood beside her as they wordlessly took in the sight of the destruction around them.

"What is this place?" Shandra asked. "It looks like a ruined village but..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes roamed the area.

"Know that these are not the ruins we seek," Zhjaeve said, turning to Dilys and regarding her stony expression. "Is this your birth village?" she asked.

"Yes," Dilys replied softly. "This is West Harbor." Shandra gave her a shocked look as recognition dawned on her.

"Oh god... this was your hometown?" she said, her voice full of horror. Shandra paused, completely at a loss for words. "Not exactly a happy homecoming festival, huh?" she finally offered awkwardly.

"Just..." Dilys halted her speech as she heard her voice cracking. "Just stay focused on our surroundings and watch for attackers," she said calmly, marching forward through the ruins of her hometown.

"Dilys..." Shandra murmured after her, her voice pained with sympathy. "I was just trying to help..." Dilys seemed to not hear her as she led her group though the village at a brisk pace, trying to get past the carnage and to the ruins beyond. She stopped dead in her tracks when she came upon the bodies.

Most of them were in the middle of the town, near her house. She moved amongst them, looking upon the fallen and trying to discern who it was that she had lost. The Mossfelds and the Starlings were there, causing Dilys to slow her pace. When she came upon each of the bodies of Merring and Georg, she paused for a moment longer, her face still not betraying any feeling. Casavir came up beside her and stood silently, before he bent down and closed their eyes for the final time.

"The children too," Dilys muttered. Casavir looked up at her questioningly. "Let the Starling children rest as well."

"Of course," Casavir replied softly, signaling to the others to help him with the rest of the villagers. She followed them with her eyes for a moment as they moved from villager to villager, taking note that Daegun and Bevil were nowhere to be found before letting her gaze once again come to rest on Brother Merring's fallen form. She stood alone in silence while her companions busied themselves with their task, not moving a muscle. After what felt like an eternity, she swallowed hard and moved away to join her teammates.

* * *

><p>The group was silent when they returned to the keep. Dilys mumbled to the rest of the group her intentions to head to the Phoenix Tail before breaking off from the party. They stood there for a short while before Shandra shot them a worried expression and then without a word briskly followed after her.<p>

"This cannot be right," Khelgar rumbled in a low tone. "No one with half a heart can just shrug off a blow like this. Why is she tryin' so hard to take it in stride?" He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. "Seein' her just standin' there like a statue in front of all those bodies… It damn near breaks my heart."

Casavir's gaze never left the direction Dilys had walked off in as they spoke. "She has borne more weight on her shoulders than any other in our group, and she has done so without complaint or attempt to share her burden." His frown deepened before he continued. "I fear that she is attempting to do the same with her despair, and that it is a load she cannot carry on her own. We must be there for her as her allies, and as her friends." Zhjaeve shook her head softly in response.

"Know that she has chosen herself to leave our company, and that she may need to grieve alone before she can accept the help of friends."

"If that is the case, we must be nearby for when she is ready," Casavir replied, heading into the tavern, with Khelgar and Zhjaeve close behind.

When they entered, Dilys was found sitting at the bar next to Bishop, so close to him she was practically in his lap. Each had a tankard of ale in hand, and seemed to be in the midst of an intimate discussion. Shandra was standing next to Dilys, gently pulling on her arm in an attempt to get her to move away from the bar.

Casavir frowned deeply, and hastily made his way over to the trio in an attempt to sort things out.

"I'm quite tired of playing games frankly," Dilys said to the ranger. "It feels like wasting time." Bishop watched Dilys with curious interest as she trailed her fingers along the back of his neck. He wondered at but most certainly enjoyed her administrations, wary of her motives but unwilling to resist.

"Dilys, you really shouldn't be drinking," Shandra urged.

"I don't know what you mean Shandra," she replied, not taking her eyes off of Bishop. "I'm quite able to handle a few drinks now and then."

"Look, let's go sit over by the fireplace and talk about it," Shandra continued. "I want to help." At that, Dilys turned in her seat to face her, and locked her in an icy gaze.

"You want to help _me_?" she asked. "After the multiple times I've had to come to your rescue? You couldn't possibly help me. You're barely able to help yourself." Shandra nearly choked on her words as she tried to respond.

"_Rescue_? You... You've practically ruined my life!" she stammered. Casavir stepped up in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

"Dilys please. Remember that we had met your friends in West Harbor, and we can help you to honor their passing," he said. Bishop lifted his chin as the situation became clear. He chanced a sideways glimpse at her face, but all he could discern was a mask of cold fury. "You need to properly grieve their deaths," the paladin continued. "And this is not the right way. You _must_ let us help you Dilys, you cannot do this alone."

Dilys stood up from her seat and laughed a little at his speech, as strange sort of giggle that sounded utterly devoid of happiness. "When are you going to learn paladin, that I can take care of myself?" she seethed.

"I understand that you are upset," Casavir began, but Dilys cut him off.

"Understand? You could _never_ understand me, you're just too blind to see it. Why don't you go look elsewhere for a damsel in distress for you to play knight in shining armor with," she said lowly. "Because there aren't any here." With that she stormed out of the tavern, leaving Casavir standing alone, quietly clenching his jaw. Bishop didn't bother to hide his satisfied smile at the display.

"Why is she being like this..." Shandra asked quietly. "We just want to help her."

"It might be," Casavir began, pausing to swallow thickly. "That the only way we can help her right now is to bear the brunt of her anger." He turned his eyes towards the door where she had left. "I know that I will take any measure of pain if it helps to ease hers." Shandra looked from his face to the door, following his gaze.

"I hope you're right," she whispered.

* * *

><p>Dilys was a different woman when she was distressed. Everyone had been witness to that fact. Instead of degrading into a sniveling girl or seeking the comfort of others, she desired only to destroy. A base sort of revenge that she would take out on her friends since she could not yet do so to her enemies. Interestingly enough, it was by getting close to them that she knew how to hurt them the most. Refusing Shandra's friendship, shattering Casavir's dream of protecting her, even her plan of seducing Bishop was meant to ultimately drive him away. Or perhaps she had wanted to destroy herself, and had decided that he was the best tool of execution.<p>

This woman, this force of destruction, was much darker than the woman they were all used to. But the reason Bishop sought Dilys out in the pouring rain in the middle of the night, was because he wanted to know which one was authentic. Was this cruel and chaotic behavior her true nature, and her pleasant and reliable actions merely a front? Or was she a selfless saint, merely crushed under the weight of her own burden? Was she black or white, day or night?

As Bishop bent down to scour the mud for quickly fading footprints, he pondered which he would prefer. Ironically, the callous woman he had seen this evening was not the one he favored, despite her character matching more closely to his own. That sort of pattern he could predict, and was boring to him for reasons he didn't care to think about. But the opposite was difficult to swallow as well. A woman too benevolent to acknowledge her own needs was both naïve and stupid. It was slightly disconcerting that after all this time he still couldn't recognize which side of her was genuine. But he intended to rectify that tonight.

Once he had caught her trail, he followed it until he found her outside of the barracks, on the training grounds. The large moon above her struggled to peek through the heavy rain clouds, and a single covered torch illuminated the back of her form. She was wielding her Light of Lathander, but she didn't seem to be really practicing so much as simply bashing a training post.

As he drew nearer, he could see that she had just thrown on some breeches and a pair of boots underneath her bedclothes, and her thin nightshirt clung to her form in the damp air. A cavalier hat sat atop her head to keep the rain from her eyes, its feather drooping miserably in the downpour. All in all, she presented a rather pathetic image. He made his footsteps echo through the rain, so that she would be wary of his approach before coming to a halt behind her.

"I don't want your condolences," Dilys said flatly, not turning away from the training post. Her statement was generic and aloof, spoken so that she didn't need to know who it was behind her. She didn't seem to care.

"I didn't come to offer any," Bishop replied. Her shoulders tensed at the sound of his voice; she was not expecting _him_. He smirked at this revelation and continued. "I just happened to be in the mood for a little sparring."

"I don't want to spar," she muttered.

"Isn't that the purpose of the training grounds?" Bishop goaded. "I doubt soul-searching is the intended way to utilize them." His tone was mocking, aiming to bring her anger to a peak. She released a quick closed mouth sigh before ceasing her bashing and turning around to face him.

"I'm not going to fight you," she stated, sticking her greatsword in the mud and tossing her hat onto the training post.

"Then I guess you'll just have to defend yourself," he replied, drawing his longsword from its sheath at his side. Dilys sneered in response.

"Put your weapon down," she said, her voice full of contempt.

"Bring _yours_ up," he countered. "I'm not going to go easy on you. If you fail to block my attacks you _will_ bleed." Her face twisted into a scowl.

"Ranger, you couldn't hurt me if you tried," she said. "I'm out of your league."

"Is that so?" Bishop asked, measuring her response. "You seem to be lacking the prominent armor that your fighting style requires," he said, gesturing towards her soaked nightshirt.

"My _preferred_ fighting style," she corrected. "I could best you a hundred different ways with my greatsword." Bishop hid his growing smirk. Her usual confidence had grown to arrogance in this state, but he wasn't going to simply take her word for it.

"Prove it," he challenged, before slashing his sword in a horizontal arc towards her midsection. She brought her sword up easily, blocking his attack with her blade facing the earth. Her eyes darted to his, trying to determine what his incentive was for this attack, before he brought his sword back and jabbed it in her direction. She turned out of the way, and ducked towards him, wielding her blade as a shield. She was maneuvering much in the way of her original style, but was far more evasive than when she fought with armor.

Dilys gripped her blade and pushed him back across the chest with it, putting him on the defensive. Her moves were full of openings, yet even after having watched her fight countless times before, Bishop could still not predict her next action. She on the other hand, did not seem to have that problem. She dodged each of his attacks, and used every opportunity to strike with her own. After growing tired of constantly being on the defensive, Bishop decided to change tactics. He waited for her to block instead of dodge, then when her sword was locked with his he brought his dagger out and slashed upwards. She barely jumped back in time to avoid it.

Dilys stood back for a moment and breathed heavily, before smirking and shaking her head at him. She didn't need to say a word to get her message across. Even if he was dual wielding she could still beat him.

He slashed both blades out at once, and she ducked between them to elbow him in the stomach. Bishop jumped back to regain his breath, narrowly avoiding the butt of her hilt coming into contact with his face. He cringed from the pain in his gut before jabbing with his sword as she rose from her crouched position. Dilys had to sway to the side to elude his attack and he slashed his dagger across her path. She moved with the dagger, avoiding its cut, and spun around behind him before pushing him into the mud.

"Yield," she said, standing over him. She pointed her greatsword at his chest as he rolled over. His smirk was nothing short of devilish as he feigned defeat, then swept his legs to the side, tripping her feet. She very nearly fell on top of him before she planted her sword near his head to regain her balance. She gave him a chastising sneer as she caught her breath for a moment.

Bishop was a formidable opponent, even if she had years of sword training on him. What she could not deny however, was that she had only really mastered the greatsword, whereas Bishop was proficient in a whole arsenal of weapons. He had said something about elite Luskan training before. If she was to use any other type of weapon in their duel, he would have beaten her soundly. His tactical flexibility was an admirable trait on the battle field, and was the reason why she had almost always brought him along. Or at least, the _main_ reason.

"You fight dirty," she said above him, her satisfied smirk betraying her amusement. She _did_ feel better from the scrimmage, but she wasn't about to admit that to Bishop.

"Well we _are_ sparring in the mud," he drawled, making himself comfortable on the ground.

"_Were_ sparring," she corrected. "Do you admit defeat?" Bishop silently evaluated her, choosing his words carefully.

"It seems Georg was right," he started. "You do fight better without the intent to kill." Her challenging grin melted into rue at the mention of her old mentor's name. "You do both him and yourself a disservice by not heeding his advice," Bishop continued. "If you feel the need to commemorate his passing or honor the dead or whatever it is you harbormen do, then you should fight without remorse and put the training that he obviously spent so much time on to use."

Her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came out. She instead turned her head and cast her eyes away from him. Bishop watched the emotions flit across her face as she seemed to come to terms with herself. After a long moment, her topaz eyes once again met his amber ones and she held out her hand to help him up.

He glanced at her hand briefly before rolling to his side and picking himself up to his feet. He had to maintain _some_ dignity in this ridiculous experiment. As he turned to face her, he was only able to get a quick glimpse of the subtle look in her eye before she moved. Before he could utter a single word, she had wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head against his neck. Her greatsword lay discarded in the mud, and she gripped him tightly against her.

Bishop was surprised to find himself feeling very awkward as she clung to him. As natural as it was, he had never been in the embrace of a woman without any carnal intent. He had locked his arms around her in the jail cell at the Watch headquarters, but he did so to be suggestive and gain some form of control over her. But she wasn't hugging him for control; she was doing it because she _wanted_ to.

The very idea was uncomfortable. Dilys shouldn't _want_ to hug him, she should _fear_ him. Fear that he would ridicule her, fear that he might make advances towards her, and fear he might use her vulnerabilities against her. All things he could easily bring himself to do. And yet, at that instant, all he wanted to do was pull out of her grip and return to a situation he could control. Somehow, _he_ became the one who was afraid.

"You should save your embraces for someone who actually wants them," he said, peeling her arms off of him. She looked at him confusedly as he pushed her away. "I'm sure the paladin would be happy to oblige," he murmured, his features darkening. Her expression shifted to angry despair at his statement.

Every time she thought that maybe, just maybe he wasn't a _complete_ bastard, he seemed determined to prove her wrong. Dilys turned around to pick up the greatsword so she could tear her eyes away from him. For a moment, she considered just walking back to her room without saying anything. But she was tired of never being able to hold on to that fleeting moment of concord in her life. If her path was destined to remain discordant, then she would not walk down it quietly.

She wiped most of the mud off of the blade on her boot before asking, "Why are you here?"

"I told you," he said behind her. "I wanted to spar."

"No." Dilys turned around to face him, her eyes determined for an answer. "Why are you with us, as a group." Bishop sheathed his sword and started fiddling with his knife.

"You know why I'm along," he answered with nonchalance. "Your uncle called his debt due, and that's that." She nodded casually, but didn't bring her head back up from it's downward arc.

"So sticking with me...you're just following orders then," she murmured.

"I don't _follow_ orders," Bishop growled, stepping up to her and invading her personal space for intimidation. "And I don't listen to any man or woman telling me what to do. I go where I want, kill who I want, do what I want. And by the hells anyone who gets in my way better know how to run."

"Well, I'm dear Duncan's 'kin' right?" she replied. "Given the way he and Daegun played fast and loose with the truth about the silver shards and my mother, he feels beholden to me now. If I told him that you've done enough to repay your debt, he would take my word for it." She lifted her eyes to him with a tired gaze. "No matter what that debt may be." Bishop stared back at her speculatively.

"Duncan's constantly running his mouth about anything and everyone, there is no way he wouldn't have told you what my debt was."

"Duncan may have told you all about my exploits before the trial, but he doesn't extend the same courtesy to me. About anything," she said, staring him down. "But you know what... I don't care. Whatever happened was between you two, and it's in the past now. So if you loathe being here so much then you can just leave right now, and I'll see to it myself that things are squared away with Duncan."

"So you want me to leave?" Bishop asked in a low voice, leaning in far too close for comfort.

"I want you to have a choice," Dilys replied, turning away from him. "So I can know that if you're still here in the morning, it's because you _want_ to be. Goodnight Bishop," she said, and started to walk away.

"You're awfully dark today Dilys," Bishop called to her, stopping her in her tracks. "As black as the night. And here I always thought you were closer to a cloudless day." She whirled around to face him, a furious frown on her face.

"Are you mocking me?" she asked, her voice so strained it nearly came out as a squeal.

"Just trying to figure you out," he replied. "It might help my decision on whether to stay or go." She sighed and let her head drop for a moment before raising it defiantly.

"I thought our visit to West Harbor revealed everything you needed to know." For a while there, so did Bishop. "You speak of day and night, but growing up in West Harbor taught me the value of the dawn," she said. "As I learned from the teachings of Lathander, it's the _balance_ between light and dark that is the most important."

And he had his answer. The woman of twilight, _that_ was the woman he wanted. One that existed somewhere between black and white and saw difficult moral decisions in shades of gray. Of course in truth, everyone existed in some sort of shade of gray, Bishop just had trouble seeing them that way.

"Is that so? Hm..." he mused to her confused countenance. "I'll see you tomorrow morning then. I think I'll catch the sunrise." And then he turned to walk away. "Sweet dreams," he called, leaving Dilys alone in the rain to wonder at his words.

* * *

><p><strong>No such thing as a clean resolution where Bishop is involved. Thanks for the reviews!<strong>


	12. Catching Sight

With their stealth approach, the group's trek through Ammon Jerro's haven was fairly combat free. Though it was made clear that they would have to do business with demons and devils almost as soon as they entered those dark hallways, Dilys was still determined to fight them as little as possible. She had seen the carnage the one they had hunted to this location was capable of. Preserving their strength until they confronted him was essential if they were to survive the battle.

The band of adventurers came to a stop before a large open doorway that presented them with a corridor leading off to the left and right. Unable to see what lay at either end of the hallway without sticking her head through the opening, Dilys quietly pressed up against the wall beside the door. Sand and Khelgar followed suit, while Bishop positioned himself on the opposite side of the opening.

Dilys watched the ranger's face as he listened for any sort of sound indicating what they would find across the threshold. When he at last shook his head in the negative, Dilys released a tense breath without making a sound. She peered as far down the hallway as she could while determining the next course of action.

When she had made up her mind on what to do next, Dilys made an attempt to signal to Bishop with some expressive hand signals. Georg had taught her certain signs that could be used to indicate directions to a teammate back in the militia. But her memory on them was hazy, and she was pretty sure she was doing them wrong now.

She definitely caught Bishop's attention though, as he was currently looking at her as if she had lost her mind. She gave up trying to use existing signals and crouched down for a couple of pebbles to try to pantomime some instructions to him. Bishop rolled his eyes and strolled leisurely over to her location, concealed by shadows and staying quiet enough to leave little evidence of his presence.

"What's the point of hand signals if you can't read them?" Dilys hissed at him when he crouched down beside her. 

"Clearly you're speaking the wrong language," he replied with a sneer.

"What am I supposed to do?" She asked, throwing her hands up. "Strip naked and dance the plans out in expressive poses?"

"Only if your intent is to distract me enough to get me killed," he replied harshly. "Though there are worse ways to die," he finished with a leer. Dilys gave him a clipped sigh.

"Honestly don't you ever get tired of-"

"_No._ I don't," Bishop said, cutting her off.

Dilys paused for a moment, her brow furrowed in a mixture of anger and confusion. "You don't even know what I was going to say," she said.

"Does it matter?" he asked. "I'm not going to stop being me and suddenly start acting like something I'm not." Dilys crossed her arms in a petulant gesture.

"Oh please. When have I ever tried to change you or anyone else in our group?"

"Can we _please_ get back to the subject at hand?" Sand cut in. "I'd rather dive headfirst into whatever lies waiting for us than listen to you two bicker all day."

"Right," Dilys said, offering Bishop one last glare. "I was going to suggest splitting up, two groups going in opposite directions."

"Yes of course," Sand responded glibly. "Obviously if we're going to be lost in a demon-infested maze of doom it's better to do so with diminished numbers."

"It's not for long," she countered. "I just want each team to scout to each end of this corridor and then meet back here, so we can try to determine which direction has a preferable destination. Any objections?" she asked, pointedly directing her attention to Sand. When met with silence from the whole group, she continued. "Well then, we're going to want to split the fighters to even our strengths, so-"

"I'll take the elf in the dress," Khelgar interjected. Dilys just froze mid sentence, her mouth left hanging open.

Sand gave Khelgar an annoyed glance before replying, "Indeed, I think I'd rather rely on the stubby dwarf's adamantine hammer, than that glowing blade you're hauling around, Dashurie."

Dilys turned her head to regard her sword briefly. She had wrapped it up in her cape so that the pale light coming from it was hidden, but if they were to engage in combat even the faintest glow would be a beacon to any nearby enemies. She had been wielding Bishop's longsword in the meantime to blend in with the ever-present darkness.

"Yes, that makes sense," Dilys replied. "I'll just..." Her voice trailed off as she glanced at her partner through process of elimination. Bishop already had a vicious smirk plastered to his face, and Dilys knew he was most certainly not going to make this easy. "All right," she said, standing up quickly. "Sand, Khelgar, you go left. Bishop and I will go right. We have to move fast everyone. The goal is only to scout to the end of the hallway and back, not find a solution to this blasted maze."

Khelgar nodded in the affirmative before peeking around the corner and slipping into the hallway, while Sand turned to Dilys. "I'd wish you luck Dashurie, though I doubt that will help you now," he said. "So just try to survive until you come up against any enemies." With that he followed after the dwarf, leaving Dilys alone with Bishop.

Dilys turned to face the ranger to find him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking ever so smug. She couldn't help but scowl at him before muttering, "Let's go," and crossing the threshold into the dark corridor.

For the most part they walked together in silence. Dilys kept her hand along the wall for guidance, trying to feel for anything at all that stood out and could give them some sort of clue about this place. Bishop walked beside her, preferring to navigate by sound and whatever tracking skills could be used in a place such as this. The lingering tension between the two was too palpable, and after a few minutes of walking Dilys was desperate to break the silence.

"Well aside from the total darkness this isn't too bad," she said, trying to be as quiet as possible.

"Managing to walk in a straight line isn't all that hard," Bishop replied flatly.

"I'd wager I could make it to the end on my own," Dilys added. "Really all I have to do is keep following the wall with my hand."

"Holding on to something makes this easier for you does it?" Bishop asked.

"Well, yes," Dilys answered, unsure where he was taking the conversation.

"Hmm, I wonder how well that works," he mused, before falling into silence. But he didn't just stop talking. Dilys could no longer hear his already difficult to trace footsteps, it was as if he ceased to exist. Dilys stopped walking. She was still so frustrated with the ranger's recent behavior. It was bad enough that she wanted him around, but right now she felt like she needed him.

"Bishop?" she called quietly. There was no reply. She kept her breathing steady, struggling valiantly to keep calm. "Now is really not the time for games, ranger." After another silent moment passed, she took a step sideways, moving closer to the wall and sliding her hand forward. She turned and looked back the way they came, but the darkness was so unnaturally overpowering that the entrance back down the hallway was invisible to her. She could see absolutely nothing in any direction.

Dilys swallowed hard. Even her Aasimar eyes couldn't see in this kind of total darkness. It was as if all light entering the hallway was obliterated, destroying any possibility of sight along with it. She turned back to face forward, unnerved to have the most powerful of her senses rendered useless. Keeping her hand on the wall in front of her, she took another step forward, then another. Then her hand came into contact with another hand on the wall.

Dilys stifled a shout as she staggered backwards in surprise, taking her hand away from the wall. She then realized the mistake of that action, as she was now standing disoriented in the middle of the wide hallway. She swung her arms out about her to try to feel for the wall again, but all she felt was empty space. Dilys now couldn't stop herself from breathing faster. She tried to keep calm, to think clearly.

"I know that was your hand on the wall Bishop," she said. "Stop pretending you aren't there."

"Oh? I thought you were going to make it to the end on your own," Bishop said softly. Dilys reached out towards the sound of his voice and took a few steps forward. When she didn't run into him, or even a wall as she expected, she felt very small. Lost and alone in complete and total darkness, with no sense of direction.

A crushing sense of defeat swept over Dilys, and she fought to keep herself from dropping to her knees. She reached back and gripped her greatsword so she would have something familiar to hold on to. The Light of Lathander would be able to pierce this heavy darkness, but she knew she could not use it.

"What do you want me to say Bishop?" Dilys asked, trying very hard to keep her breathing steady and the desperation from her voice. "That you're a good tracker and I need you to scout trails for me? Fine, I need you. I can't even walk a straight line without getting lost. Are you satisfied?"

"Very," he responded, his voice coming from directly behind her. Dilys jumped slightly when she felt a hand clasp her wrist and pry her greatsword from her grasp, guiding her a few steps sideways until her hand was resting back on the wall.

"I suppose I asked for that," Dilys sighed, moving forward down the hallway again.

"You'd be surprised what you can get just by asking," he said, his voice slightly closer. Dilys swore the meaning of any sentence changed when it was said by Bishop in that tone of voice.

"Am I going to have to compliment your skills every time I need to make use of them from now on Bishop?" she asked, wary of his ego, and wanting to avoid any more bruising of her own. "Because I don't know if I have the vocabulary required for that."

"I'm sure you can come up with other ways of complimenting me," Bishop quipped.

"That hardly seems... Wait," Dilys said, cutting herself off mid sentence. She ran her fingers up and down the crack in the wall she had come across. "There's a door here," she said. Bishop came up beside her and started to feel along the wall's surface as Dilys tried to find some way of opening it. A slightly irregular stone stood out from the rest, right around where a door handle should be. She pushed the stone into the wall, causing the door to slowly swing open into a small room. The faint light spilling from the room was blinding compared to the suffocating darkness in the hallway, and when Dilys opened her eyes again to adjust to the light, she found Bishop had already passed through the doorway.

"Well _this_ was a pleasant diversion," he said, standing in the tiny room not much bigger than one used for storage. It was completely empty except for the blue-flamed candelabra sitting on a small desk. "Now, can we get back to trying to find an end to this damned hallway?" he added, clearly irritated. Dilys sighed and rubbed her eyes. She was enjoying the little oasis of light after trekking through a desert of darkness, but he was right. They needed to keep moving.

"Right, back to groping around in darkness," she replied. "Groping around the walls I mean," she appended, careful to watch her words around Bishop.

"Of course," he said, following her out of the room. They left the door open, leaving just a little bit of light to grace the hallway. They hadn't taken five steps past the doorway's glow when Bishop grabbed her arm and covered her mouth, pulling them both back to hug the wall as closely as possible.

"I heard something," he whispered, preempting any muffled squeals she could let out. "A sound like something scraping against the floor." He took his hand away and listened for another sound, keeping his eyes focused on the darkness from which it came. Using what meager light the doorway allowed into the hall, Dilys leaned forward ever so slightly to see past the ranger, and looked down the hall to where his attention was focused.

"Oh no," she muttered quietly.

"What?" Bishop asked.

Just barely Dilys could make out a shape, large and bulky and most certainly threatening. A second more and she could see the metalwork adorning the figure, the screws and hooks holding it together, and a vacant grill where a mouth should be. She had read enough about constructs in her youth to know they were very much in trouble.

"It's an iron golem," she whispered.

"How-" Bisop began. 

"I don't think it's seen us yet," Dilys said, desperate to retreat from the creature. "We have to get back into the room," she added. "We can't fight that thing alone." Bishop nodded and slowly began sidling along the wall, pushing Dilys towards the doorway.

Almost as soon as they began moving they heard the loud whine of metal scraping against metal, and Dilys looked back for only an instant to see the thing turning its head and standing up. Bishop shoved her forward, causing her to return her attention to the door and scramble inside as fast as possible. Bishop quickly followed suit, and struggled to get the heavy stone door closed behind them.

The sound of the golem quickly closing the distance between them flooded their ears as Dilys rushed to the ranger's side and helped him shove the door closed. A loud bang echoed against the wall just as soon as the stones slid into place. They both breathed heavily as they heard the golem sit back down in front of the door, effectively trapping them inside.

"All right," Dilys said between breaths, moving to the wall perpendicular to the door and sinking to the floor to sit. "This isn't as bad as it seems," she continued, bringing her knees up and wiping any stray strands of hair from her forehead. "Khelgar has an adamantine hammer, which will be able to scrap that thing as soon as they find out we haven't come back." 

"How did you know that," Bishop asked slowly, still standing at his place beside the door.

"I had read a little on constructs when I was younger," Dilys said. "Enough to know we don't have the weaponry to take that thing down."

"No," he said, making his way towards her with a strange note of caution in his voice. "How did you know it was an iron golem? I couldn't see anything, and there was no sound that could have given you that information."

Dilys froze at the realization. The golem must have been waiting in the thin margin of darkness beyond what Bishop could see but not yet hidden to Dilys. "Really?" she asked, feigning innocence. "I could just make out the shapes to tell what it was. I must have been at a better viewing angle or something."

"We were both pressed up against the wall," he replied. "And you were actually farther away from the thing than I was." He sat down against the wall beside Dilys and studied her.

"I don't know what to tell you Bishop," Dilys said. "Maybe you need lenses."

"Those golden eyes of yours," he said, grabbing her chin and turning her face towards him. "They're an Aasimar trait aren't they?"

Dilys looked back at him for a moment before jerking her chin away from him and replying, "Considering I never knew either of my parents I honestly can't say."

"Do they let you see in the dark?" Bishop prodded.

"Does _your_ eye color give you special powers Bishop?" she countered.

"If you can see in the dark," he surmised. "Then that night at Blacklake... I couldn't see you."

"That was the point of me staying in the water," Dilys interrupted.

"But you could see me," Bishop concluded.

Dilys was speechless for a fraction of a second, astonished at how rapidly he could come to that conclusion from her one small slip up. She quickly regained her composure before asking, "Do you always jump to wild conclusions when someone outdoes you?" That was something she hoped he would never figure out, especially when they happened to be trapped alone together.

"You _could_ see me," he confirmed. "I was swimming around at my leisure, completely _naked_, and you could see everything." Dilys just crossed her arms and looked the other way, but Bishop was becoming progressively more pleased by this revelation.

"Is that why you got back into the water Dash?" he teased. "So you could get a better look? Did you spend that entire time ogling me?" Bishop noticed the tips of her ears turning very red, and relished the opportunity to make her squirm. "So tell me little Dash," he whispered smoothly, leaning in closer. "Did you like what you could see?"

"All right!" she suddenly shouted, turning to face him and putting distance between them in one movement. "Yes! I can see in the dark! Yes, I was looking at you when we were swimming in Blacklake! Yes, I liked what I saw! It didn't change anything up until now and it doesn't change the fact that we're trapped here together, so just be quiet!" The golem made some shifting sounds outside the door in response to her outburst, so she promptly shut her mouth and crossed her arms again. Bishop just laughed in his dark tone.

"How rich. Had I known you were a voyeur I might not have gone swimming that night," he said. "I feel so used, so dirty. Even more so than usual. But let me remind you, if you wanted to get a look that badly," he said, again scooting closer to her.

"You'd be surprised what you can get just by asking..." he said. "I'm a more than willing participant. As long as you check your sentimentality at the door, you can stop by my room any time." An oddly mournful giggle bubbled up from Dilys at his offer. She turned to face him once again, her face a storm of anger, hurt, and humor.

"Sentimentality?" she repeated. "How could I ever entertain the thought of any sort of sentiment with you? You've made it absolutely clear that you want nothing to do with me other than to torment me." Bishop's malicious grin faded at her response.

"But don't worry, I don't take it personally. I've figured you out, you see," she continued, her face settling into a mask of stone. "I'm the only one who will put up with you, so you have to be _extra_ cruel to me to make sure you don't ever have any real friendships." Bishop scowled as she once again turned her face away from him.

"Right," he replied darkly. "I'm just the humble tracker the great Captain of Crossroad Keep only puts up with to scout trails. If only I were _nicer_ I could have been so much more popular," he continued. "But who knows what I would have been? Not me. Luckily I've got _you_ to show me what could have been." Dilys whipped her head around to face him, frustrated that he could make it sound as if he loathed both her and himself at the same time.

"Bishop, for all your barbs and doublespeak, I'm _glad_ you're you," she said, though there was no hint of affection in her voice. "So don't act like I'm just using you."

This took Bishop back. It was not what he was expecting at all, and his mind went blank as to how to respond. Instead he just turned his head away to glare angrily at the wall in front of them. Dilys did the same, and they sat in tense silence for a few moments. At last Dilys spoke up.

"You know what Bishop? Go ahead and take your frustrations out on me," she said angrily, determined to prove something. "Because I don't know if you've realized it yet, but I'm no simpering weakling. I can take it, and I'm not going to run crying to daddy."

"This isn't Blacklake little Dash," Bishop replied, glancing sideways at her. "There really is no one around to hear you scream. Is this really the best time to pit mind against body and test my strength of will? Because temptation can be a _very_ powerful motivator, and right now I'm tempted to... enlighten you."

"Try it, I can take you," she shot back.

Bishop turned his head towards her in a speculative glare. "I'm not sure we're talking about the same thing anymore," he said.

"Does it matter?" she asked wearily, quickly growing tired of the conversation.

His eyes were dangerous as he leaned in close to whisper in her ear. "Oh, but it does. You see, _I_ was talking about- _Ow! _Bloody hells!"

Before he could get out what he was going to say, Dilys had bitten down hard on his neck, very likely drawing blood. He brought his hand up to the wound, at the same time catching sight of the healing scar he had left on her own neck one nightmare riddled night not so long ago.

"If you get too close to someone you just get hurt," Dilys mused with a small, vindictive smile. "Isn't that something you're always trying to teach me Bishop?"

"You vicious shrew..." he muttered with a bewildered glare. Bishop wasn't going to let this end like it had in Blacklake. The time for exploration and testing limits was over. This was a battle now, and he would not lose.

He pushed her up against the wall, cornering her with his body. Dilys responded with a mighty shove back, sending him falling on his back in his unprepared state. She put her boots on his chest and leaned back against the wall with her arms crossed, effectively using him as a foot stool.

Bishop scowled and grabbed her feet, pulling her towards him as he sat up. He made to pounce on her, but she scrambled sideways, kicking her feet free. Dilys elbowed Bishop in the ribs while he was still down, and climbed on his back, grabbing one arm and twisting it behind him. She left his other arm free however, and he swung it backwards to grab the scabbard of her cloaked greatsword, yanking her off of his back. Dilys released his arm as she struggled to pry his hand from behind her, and Bishop managed to pin her while she was distracted.

A single breath managed to escape before she moved again, bringing her legs up and kicking him in the back. She then pinned him, after which he pinned her. They continued wrestling for dominance until Bishop had at last truly pinned Dilys to the ground, holding her legs down with his knees and her wrists held together above her head.

They were both breathing heavily, aware of the precious energy lost on their little scuffle. And yet, even with the bulky armor between them, the huge sword wedged uncomfortably beneath Dilys, and the knowledge that their time would be better spent preparing for the coming battles, neither of them was willing to move. Dilys swallowed thickly before she spoke.

"I think it hurts more when you can't get close enough," she said.

Even pinned to the floor, breathless, and with her hands confined, she managed to stay in control of the situation... in control of him. The challenging glare in her eyes _dared_ him to make the one final move to end the game. Bishop couldn't help but marvel at her, and found himself unable to look away.

As if of its own accord, his hand slid slowly down her arm, running over her rough and scarred skin with uncharacteristic tenderness. Both he and Dilys breathlessly watched it trace its path, unsure of where it would stop in its slow journey downwards. His hand had just reached her shoulder when they heard the clang of metal against metal just outside the door.

Released from his trance, Bishop glanced briefly at Dilys before he rolled off her and onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. The cacophony of metal and magic outside the room brought Dilys up to sit back on her hands just before the noise ceased and the door opened. Sand and Khelgar stood on the other side, taking in the sight of Bishop and Dilys reclining side by side on the floor with their hair noticeably tousled.

"I'm sorry, were we interrupting something?" Sand asked.

"Just give us a few more minutes," Bishop replied, right before Dilys smacked his elbow out from underneath him.

"I'm guessing you found the right path?" Dilys asked, getting up off the ground.

"Aye," Khelgar answered. "The hallway leads to a great room just like the one where we started."

"And that is apparently a dead end," Sand added after firing a light spell down the remaining hallway.

"All right," Dilys nodded. "See if you can pick anything useful off that thing," she said, gesturing to the iron golem. As Sand and Khelgar proceeded to do so, Dilys turned around to find Bishop still lounging on the floor. She held out her hand to help him up, her face pleasantly neutral. Bishop looked at it wearily before Dilys huffed, "Oh just give it up already," and bent down to grab his arm and haul him to his feet.

"I'm not complimenting you if that's what you're aiming for," he said, standing even closer to her than usual while her hand lingered on his arm.

"Well there are other ways of complimenting aren't there," she said, a subtle smile tweaking at the corners of her mouth.

"I can think of a few," Bishop replied.

"Maybe you can tell me about them when we get out of this place," she said, letting go of his arm and walking out of the room to assist her companions beyond. Bishop stared pensively at her as she left, before a smirk crawled across his face and he quickly followed suit.

* * *

><p><strong>An Aasimar's darkvision doesn't work when confronted with magical darkness. You need ultravision for that.<strong>


	13. Dust

A quiet gloom had settled over the party as they tried to cope with what had happened in Ammon Jerro's haven. Shandra was dead, Ammon Jerro was not, and their leader...

Dilys was visibly battered and burned, but seemed stoic, almost unaffected by all that had happened. They all knew better than to take the Aasimar's mood at face value though, as was discovered after stumbling across the ruins of her hometown.

Bishop watched their leader carefully as she stood by the fire with Zjhaeve and the warlock. They had been discussing the next course of action, and at a glance Dilys just seemed to be passively listening to Ammon with only mild interest. But there was a subtle look in her eyes, not of sorrow, not of defeat, not even of anger. It was a look that Bishop had come to know well, one of murderous intent. There was no scheming or hesitation behind her eyes. The warlock's death at her hands was already a forgone conclusion.

Much had happened in the bowels of Ammon Jerro's haven to bring them to this point. When they had at last reached the warlock's inner sanctum, Dilys was a woman transformed. No, by that point she was no mere woman; she was a force of destruction. They all had expected a challenge in the battle that ensued, but it was over almost as soon as it had began. Their opponent was the destroyer of West Harbor, and in robbing Dilys of those she loved he had brought upon himself her furious wrath. There were no tactics, no battle strategy in the group's attack, just the raw vengeance of a very determined Aasimar. Dilys had dived into the battle with no consideration of her own life, only the desire to end her enemy's. It was only due to the rest of the group's agile strategic adjustment that she had not gotten herself killed.

Immediately after she launched her attack with no mention of a battle plan, Sand had thrown up a protective spell on her, and spent the rest of the fight devoting the entirety of his spells to make up for her lack of defense. Khelgar moved to keep Sand from getting attacked while his attention was focused on Dilys, whilst Bishop was guarding her from the constant stream of demons flooding from the newly opened portal on the far end of the room. It was fortunate that the fight had ended quite quickly due to the constant barrage of attacks Dilys was unleashing on the warlock. The group had to double their efforts to make up for their leader's lack of defense, and they could not have kept up the pace much longer.

Bishop was brought back to the present when the rest of the group began discussing what should be done with Ammon Jerro. When certain insufferable members of their squad made the asinine suggestions of letting the warlock live, he had to struggle to remember why he was sticking around these fools in the first place. He could barely manage enough patience to ridicule such laughable notions as he glanced back over to their 'fearless leader'. She had moved to confront Ammon Jerro, and stood directly before him. "I say we let our leader handle Ammon," Bishop spoke. "Something tells me she'll straighten him out."

Dilys looked very hard at the warlock for a long moment, her eyes full of emptiness and desolation. Her movement was sudden, as she swept her arm out to backhand Ammon hard across the face. She was still wearing her armored gauntlets, and the force of the blow sent him crashing to the ground. A hush fell over the entire tavern, and everyone heard her speak her next words as clear as a bell. "When all this is over, I'm sending you back to hell myself."

She turned without another word to leave the tavern, only to be stopped by Nevalle at the entrance. He approached her immediately, his face strictly business as he addressed her.

"You need to come with me."

* * *

><p>When Dilys had returned from Castle Never, her companions had already heard about how she had led the counter-offensive against the ambush, saving Lord Nasher and gaining the title of knight-captain. They were all eager to know what had happened, and what they were to do next. The weariness in her face was evident as she answered their questions, and she was brief with her instructions. The sun was setting behind her when she had arrived, and it was almost as if she had brought the night with her. She dismissed the team, excusing herself to retire for the evening. Everyone returned to their favorite haunts at the Phoenix Tail or in the keep, biding their time before their new "Knight-Captain" gave the order to head out in the morning.<p>

It wasn't long before Casavir had left his usual post in the keep hall to find himself standing outside the door to Dilys's quarters. He raised his hand to knock and hesitated, then sighed before bringing his hand down. The news of her promotion to knight-captain was a cause for celebration, she had even survived the ambush with no injuries. In fact, the only evidence that she had even been in a fight at all was a large crack down the chest plate of her armor. But instead of the expression of self satisfaction that she usually wore after a job well done, her air was defeated.

Casavir knew that he shouldn't be disturbing Dilys when she seemed to be discreetly troubled. He was aware that her difficulties were personal and she wished to endure them alone. But Dilys was normally so capable before everything had started going wrong. Her confident demeanor spread to her companions around her to give them all a glimmer of hope in these troubling times, no matter how sour their disposition normally was. It was an admirable quality, one that had helped Casavir overcome his own inner demons. So when he saw the light in her eyes dulled, his heart became so heavy that he could not sit idly by without trying to help her.

He fixed his jaw in determination and knocked on the door. Casavir strained to hear any sign of stirring within, but was greeted only with silence. He waited a few moments before knocking again, a little louder this time, wondering if she may have already fallen asleep.

"Dilys?" he ventured, loud enough for her to hear him if she was awake, but quiet enough to not rouse her if she was asleep. Again he received no response. Knowing that she was most likely asleep, he quietly tried the door handle, finding it unlocked. He paused in that position, not entirely sure it was his place to intrude uninvited while she rested. But he assured himself he would only steal a glance to make sure she was all right and leave her in peace.

He slowly pushed the door open, the new hinges silently allowing him passage. The room was dark except for a tiny sliver of moonlight pouring in through an archer's window, but even with the poor light source he could see that the bed was made and that there was no form lying in it. He called out her name once again, stepping into the dark room. He noticed the cracked armor had been discarded on the floor next to the bed. Casavir peered into each unlit corner, but couldn't make out her shape anywhere. She was gone.

* * *

><p>Bishop had left the Phoenix Tail and wandered outside. He had taken to leaning against the outer wall of the tavern, as the moonlight was unable to reach it, leaving it dark enough to give even an Aasimar trouble making anything out. It gave him an excellent vantage point to watch those coming and going from the keep without being seen. He was infinitely comfortable in that situation, always ready to strike when it was least expected, and he found it to be one of his favorite spots in the keep. Some nights he just used it for general watching, hoping to catch something interesting. But tonight, Bishop knew what he was waiting for.<p>

Dilys hadn't been herself when she had come back from Castle Never. He had goaded her about her new title, expecting to get a gung-ho response about how fun it would be getting to organize a war against the undead. Instead she was stoic and unresponsive, brief with her answers, and quick to dismiss them. She was distraught, most likely from the whirlwind of change the past days had brought in, and she would move to correct herself. She had excused herself to her quarters, but he knew sitting and stirring alone in her room was the last thing she would do.

He wasn't sure where she would go or what she would do, but if she left the keep, he would see her do it. There were a couple of threads left dangling from the haven that he wanted to tie up, though he was at a loss as to how. So Bishop made himself comfortable in the shadows of the tavern wall and waited, certain that a good confrontation would resolve everything.

* * *

><p>Grobnar was tinkering with the construct down in the basement of the keep. He had just begun to hum a cheery melody to himself when he heard a light laugh behind him. He spun around to find Dilys sitting amongst the crates on the floor in a darker corner of the basement.<p>

"Why Dilys! When did you get there?" Grobnar exclaimed. The small amused smile stayed plastered to her face.

"I've been here this whole time Grobnar. I was here when you walked in." She shook her head as if it would jostle Grobnar's memory.

"Oh my! Really?" he asked. "How did I not notice you I wonder?" she looked at him for a moment, her smile morphing a little into a grimace.

"I think, Grobnar… Well, you're in your own little world sometimes," she replied, trying to be blunt and polite at the same time. "Which is partially why I'm here, in a way." Grobnar gave her a confused look, which was incidentally very similar to the way he looked all the time. "I'm a little tired of my own world right now, so I'll be joining yours." Dilys said. Grobnar clapped excitedly and gave a wild grin.

"Oh Dilys!" Grobnar gushed. "This will be so exciting! We could talk about the Wendersnaven and you could show me some sword techniques and-"

"Actually," Dilys cut him off before he could get too carried away. "I was hoping you could just play a song for me."

"Certainly, Knight-Captain!" He ran over to the shelf near the construct and grabbed his lute. "What would you like me to play?" he asked while climbing up to have a seat on a crate next to her.

"Well, I was hoping for a sad song," she mumbled. "Do you know any?"

"A sad song!" Grobnar exclaimed. "But that won't do at all! We should have a merry tune to celebrate your promotion to Knight-Captain!" he said, tuning his lute.

"Oh, I know," she replied. "I need to focus on the issues at hand. It's just… Well, I haven't had a chance to properly mourn Shandra's death." Grobnar's wide smile melted from his face when she said this.

He hadn't realized that she was whisked off to a sudden battle at Castle Never while the rest of them were able to console each other over their loss. She had not been given a chance to rest or even collect her thoughts since they returned from Jerro's haven. "I'll be back in top form tomorrow morning," she promised. "But I feel that I just need to grieve a little first."

"Oh," Grobnar murmered with a solemn nod, plucking at a few of the strings to try and find a tune. "A Lachrimae then," he said, and began to play.

He strummed a steady and deliberate rhythm, before bringing in the melody. It was high up, and Dilys raised her face as if she would be able to see the notes. She let out a sigh as she the music dragged her into her thoughts.

Shandra had become a high note in her life, and Dilys had come to consider her to be her friend. She had stuck by her, put up with more than Dilys thought she would, and came closest to what she could call a family. And now she was gone, never to hear from Dilys herself what her friendship meant to her. The Aasimar felt wracked with guilt at the abuse she unleashed upon Shandra after the destruction of West Harbor. Dilys no longer had the opportunity to apologize, and now she couldn't even avenge her death.

The music dipped low, and Dilys brought her face down. Ammon Jerro, the man who destroyed her hometown and all those living there she had ever cared about, was now also the man who hastened the death of her dear friend.

And she knew she could not kill him.

For even the chance to defeat the King of Shadows, they needed to perform the Ritual of Purification, which they could not do without Ammon. Dilys could not avenge Shandra, West Harbor, or any number of people he had killed, because the fate of the world was linked to Ammon's. The world that somehow, despite her own wishes, Dilys was now responsible for.

Grobnar had reached a more complicated section of the song and played rapidly, the notes falling down the scale one after the other. There were too many notes, and Dilys felt the song come crashing down around her. She was unable to stop the tears from streaming down her face as she listened to Grobnar's playing. West Harbor was destroyed, the people she had wanted to protect slain, and the woman who gave her blood to save her now gone. How could Dilys lead Neverwinter's war against the King of Shadows if she had nothing left to fight for? And why should she be willing to die for this cause if there was no meaning in it for her anymore?

The music slowed to more lingering notes, coming near the end of the song. Dilys brushed her tears away and sighed heavily. She wanted to go to sleep and not wake up for a few years, but she supposed a few hours would have to suffice. Before long she would have to return to the role of the hero, even if her motivation was lacking. The Shadow Reavers would be hounding her steps, and Dilys had to be prepared to face them if she wanted to survive. Her feelings would just have to wait.

The song came to a stop at a middle note, the uncertain conclusion hanging in the air as the music faded away. Dilys sniffed one last time, and then stood up from her place among the crates. "Thank you Grobnar," she said, approaching the gnome. "That was lovely."

"Of course, Dilys," he replied, his cheery smile back on his face as he set aside his lute. "If you should ever need me, I'll always be right here. I'll be sure to have my lute at the ready." Dilys smiled back at him softly.

"That's comforting to know," she said. "And it's very much appreciated." The gnome's eyes fell onto the object she had in her hand down by her side.

"What is that you have there?" he asked. "Is that a painting?" Dilys tried not to let her smile fall as she held it up for him to see.

"Yes, we had gotten it from a sidewalk artist in Blacklake," she replied. "It's a portrait of Shandra."

* * *

><p>The wood creaked painfully as Dilys pulled another old board off the door of the dilapidated temple. The building had been standing on the Crossroad Keep grounds for some time, and she simply hadn't commissioned repairs for it yet. Dilys tried to be quiet when pushed the heavy wood door open, but the wood fell apart with a crash under her effort. She looked around behind her, hoping people weren't going to come rushing out of the buildings asking why she was pulling apart broken down temples. After a long enough wait she could still see no one, so she brushed away the cobwebs from the entrance and climbed over the debris into the old building. It wasn't long before she was followed.<p>

The moon had been high in the sky by the time she had left the keep basement, and now it shown down brightly through a large hole in the roof. The light fell onto the remains of an old altar, and the dust Dilys had disturbed upon her entrance was so thick it looked like falling snow passing through the shaft of light.

She made her way down the aisle to approach the altar, weaving around broken bits of wood and stone. Dilys regarded the altar for a moment, and stopped just short of dusting off the surface with her sleeve. She brought her hand up to look at the small painting of Shandra once more, before setting it down upon the altar. "To dust you shall return, I suppose," Dilys said, her voice sounding much louder as it echoed off the bare walls of the building.

She put her palms on the edge of the alter and leaned over, her hair shining brightly as she was bathed in moonlight. Dilys stared at the neutral face in the portrait looking back at her, as if it weren't entirely pleased with its accommodations. "I'm afraid this is the best funeral I can give you, my friend," she said to the painting.

"There's already been a service for her here at the keep actually," Bishop's voice rang out behind her. "While you were away at Castle Never." Dilys tightened her grip on the edge of the altar but otherwise didn't move. The man had a remarkable ability to intrude upon her most private moments.

"Well this service is just for me," she said, hoping that he would not ignore her hint that she wanted to be alone. Judging from the sound of his voice, he was still standing over by the entrance of the temple. If he were to just turn around and leave it would make things much easier for her.

"Do you really think building a little shrine in this derelict church is going to make you feel better?" he asked. Dilys hung her head and sighed as she heard him beginning to walk down the aisle. Of course this wasn't going to be easy. This was _Bishop_.

"She went to the Haven because of me, she died because of me. I can't just do nothing," she said. "So yes, I'm simply hoping this will make me feel better. If I try any harder to just shrug it off I'll turn to stone." Bishop was quiet for a moment as he moved towards her through the temple.

"Just as long as you can still fight when the time comes, I don't think anyone's going to fault you for a little remorse," he said, coming to a stop behind her. Dilys raised her head again and stared off into mid-distance.

"No mocking, Bishop?" she asked, genuinely surprised that he wasn't chiding her for her weakness. "Even in the face of my tragic sentimentality?"

"I've seen how you _really_ deal with the loss of your friends," he said. "By taking it out, raw and bloody, on those who've wronged you. Ammon Jerro never stood a chance in that fight... Not with you raining down the fury of every fallen villager of West Harbor on him." Dilys released a small sullen laugh.

"And yet I can't harm a hair on Ammon's head, and I have no one to unleash my insane vengeance upon," she lamented.

"It doesn't matter who it is does it?" he asked. "It could be anyone that stands in your way. Otherwise you're letting the farmgirl's death go to waste."

Dilys went very still at his words. She couldn't let Shandra's death go to waste.

If Shandra had never joined Dilys in the first place on her quest for the shards, she would still be alive. How could Dilys bring her on a journey that would get her killed, if it wasn't important enough to see through to the end? If she were to give up now, she wouldn't only be abandoning the quest. She'd be abandoning Shandra.

Every single person that died in the search for the silver shards would have died in vain. Every smaller task Dilys had to ignore because of her more important quest, would have been neglected for nothing. Every companion that went through all her battles and hardships by her side, would have suffered without cause. Dilys began her quest for the shards at the expense of other people's needs, she would have to finish it at the expense of her own.

Or all of it would have been for naught.

Dilys released a quiet breath of air. She knew what she was fighting for. What was worth dieing for.

She finally turned around, feeling her eyes again grow moist with fresh tears threatening to spill over. And Bishop was standing in front of her, somehow helping her bear her burdens as only he could.

It seemed as if everything he ever said or did was wrong, and yet he made her feel... what? An attraction? A connection? A fascination...? Those words weren't enough to describe the emotions running through her as she looked upon his face. They were powerful feelings assaulting her senses, and she couldn't help but to be drawn to the man, even when he pushed her away.

"Bishop..." she whispered, bringing her hand up to cup his face.

Bishop brought his hand up and placed it on top of hers, intending to pull it away and make her keep her distance. But the unguarded look in her eyes was inviting... and accepting. Accepting of _him_. It disarmed him completely, and he let his hand linger on her own.

He could have mocked himself for getting caught up in the moment, for just standing there staring at her with her hand in his instead of taking advantage of the situation. But a deeper part of him, something that had been brittle, blackened and dead, drew nourishment from her affectionate gaze.

"Dilys?" Casavir's voice sounded through the doorway of the temple, breaking the moment. The Aasimar withdrew her hand, and looked over Bishop's shoulder to see the paladin entering the dilapidated building. He had a very concerned look on his face when he saw her stepping out from behind the ranger's silhouette, shaded with anger as he no doubt figured Bishop was abusing her in some way.

"It's OK Casavir…" she called out to him, hoping to stop him before he attempted a heroic rescue. She took a deep breath and spoke a bit more calmly. "_I'm_ OK." Casavir walked slowly towards them, stopping about halfway down the aisle.

"Dilys, if you should ever need to _truly_ rely on someone..." he said. Bishop turned around at his offer and crossed his arms, his face full of disgust for the paladin.

Dilys interrupted him, wary that Casavir's unsubtle implication that she could not rely on Bishop could spark something very unpleasant. "I've already been relying on you," she said, before locking eyes with Bishop. "All of you."

"The hour is late, and I was concerned..." Casavir ventured. He was not simply going to walk away from this.

"Yes, you're right," she said, wearily brushing some loose strands of hair from her eyes. She turned back around to Shandra's portrait on the alter. "It has been a very long night... and I need to get some rest."

The paladin nodded at her response. "I was heading back to the keep shortly," he said. "I will escort you." She gave a vacant nod before giving one last look to the ranger.

"Goodnight," she said quietly, before turning and following Casavir out of the temple. Bishop stood alone in silence in the decrepit building for a few moments longer before following suit.

* * *

><p><strong>I was never really clear on whether it was Ammon Jerro who was responsible for West Harbor, or the Shadow Reavers. But whether he was or not, Dilys blames him anyway. And as always, thanks for the reviews.<strong>


	14. Burned

Dilys sighed heavily as she walked by herself through the keep courtyard in the early morning. Despite her best efforts, she found herself once again thinking about a subject she couldn't get out of her mind: Bishop.

She was on shaky ground where the ranger was concerned. Dilys had admitted to herself that she had genuine feelings for the man. That she simply could not deny. But she was also certain that those feelings were not reciprocated, and doubted Bishop could ever warm up enough to anyone for it to even be possible. So she had been avoiding him.

At least, she was avoiding him as much as one _could_ avoid someone who was around her all the time. Dilys had tried leaving him back at the keep for a few outings to put some distance between them, but those excursions had gone disastrously. In her smitten state she had only ended up thinking about him while she was away, distracting her to the point of carelessness. So she had Bishop join her whenever she left the keep ever since.

But even when they were back at the keep, they seemed to somehow always be together. It didn't help that she spent most of her free time at the Phoenix Tail than in the actual keep. When she was in the keep proper seeing to her duties as knight-captain however, Dilys would spot Bishop out of the corner of her eye milling about the war room or emerging from hallways.

Even during meals in the dining hall, she always seemed to find him sitting next to her, no matter the circumstance. In one instance when she had been late to dinner, the only empty seat she could find was between two Greycloak recruits. She had been chatting with one of them about their training as she ate her meal, but when she turned to the other recruit she found Bishop had taken his place, quietly drinking his ale.

Dilys couldn't figure out if he was doing it on purpose or not. If he _was_ following her around, he did a very good job of hiding it. He never seemed conspicuous or out of place, always having a reason for being wherever he was. But the way Bishop always seemed to just appear in her proximity, as if he had been there all along, was damn near uncanny.

So Dilys couldn't actually _avoid_ Bishop, and his presence was a constant reminder of her poor taste in men. Dilys knew it was an appropriate punishment for her behavior however. _Everyone_ told her to keep away from him: Duncan, Shandra, Casavir, her own instincts... Even Bishop himself had pushed her away from him. But Dilys had played with fire, and now she had gotten burned, forced to endure the sting of longing for a man who would torture her for such feelings.

Bishop wouldn't refuse a chance to bed her, and doing so would certainly sting even more when she was inevitably rejected. Dilys knew she could not give him that chance, and did her best to never find herself alone with him. She also refrained from any conversation of a personal nature, sticking instead to discussions of strategies and battle tactics. She had actually managed to keep herself at a relatively safe distance, and he hadn't gone out of his way to bait her.

So far.

That distance she created made him no less of a distraction. Even now she found it difficult to keep him out of her mind as she made her way towards the front gate. But what would come to interrupt those thoughts would leave her disappointed nonetheless.

"I see the moon has been at your back. You look well Dilys," the familiar voice said, violently snapping her out of her preoccupied state.

"Daeghun!" she cried, stopping dead in her tracks. She was completely caught off guard by her foster father's surprise visit. "Where have you been?"

"The Mere has grown dark and many villages needed help in leaving before it was too late," he said, his usual stoicism as strong as ever. "But I have discovered something and had to tell you at once."

"If it's about West Harbor, I know... I saw it destroyed," Dilys said, bowing her head. She looked back up when she heard soft footsteps coming down the pathway, to see Elanee approaching them.

"I heard one of the scouts was asking about me..." she said when she came to a stop before them, then turned to regard Daeghun. "Oh, well met. You're Daeghun aren't you. Your daughter has-"

"I am Daeghun yes," he interrupted, clearly uninterested in pleasantries. "And you are Elanee, of the Circle of the Mere."

"Once of the Circle, yes," she replied. "What do you want?"

"You're here for _her__?_" Dilys asked in disbelief, unable to hide the surprise in her voice.

"Try to hold in your scorn, I almost missed it," Elanee said dryly. Dilys released a short, frustrated sigh. The scorn wasn't aimed at _her_.

"This does concern her. It concerns you both," Daeghun replied. "The druids of our lands, the Circle of the Mere, still live."

Dilys masked her face with a solidly neutral expression and lost herself in her thoughts, while Daeghun discussed the whereabouts of the circle with Elanee. Dilys felt foolish to think Daeghun had actually come to the keep to see his foster daughter. No matter how high she had risen in the ranks, or what great feats she accomplished, or how very likely it was that either of them might have died... it was all meaningless to Daeghun. Dilys had already learned, over and over, not to expect fatherly behavior or affection from him. It stung bitterly when he withheld it nevertheless, and it annoyed her that she still craved it.

"Then you must make haste at once, if this is your course of action," Dilys heard Daeghun say.

"Are you going to guide us?" Elanee asked.

"No, I cannot," he replied. "But I can mark the location on your map." Dilys fought the powerful urge to laugh out loud at his response as she handed him her map. Of _course_ he wouldn't actually take them anywhere. That would be giving off the impression that he actually cared.

"As for now, I have other duties in the defense of the Sword Coast and this keep, and I must see to them," her foster father finished, marking down and returning her map. He gave a curt nod to them both and walked off without another word. Elanee turned to regard Dilys once he had gone.

"Your father's not one for showing emotion is he?" she asked. "I don't see how you could stand him. I would have run off when I was young." Dilys didn't bother mentioning that she had run off several times. She was in no mood for idle chatter about her trying relationship with her foster father.

"We don't choose our fathers, and I got what fate gave me," she said stoically.

"True enough," Elanee replied with a sigh. "You could have done worse, I suppose. Or better." She shook her head and dropped the subject. "Regardless, we need to find the Circle, but as for reaching the location, that could be difficult."

"Ah... I thought I heard the cries of a damsel in distress." Dilys turned around at the sound of Bishop's voice to find him walking towards her. "Someone had to fill Shandra's role, eh?"

"Bishop," Elanee spoke his name as if it tasted bad coming out of her mouth. "This doesn't concern you, so stop spying on us."

"As for you, Captain..." Bishop ignored Elanee, and instead locked eyes with Dilys. "Heard your father was playing scout. I wanted to meet him, tell him what a wonderful girl he raised..." He stepped closer and crossed his arms. "All of the Sword Coast is thankful, I'm sure."

Dilys was struck with a bizarre mental image at his words. She pictured Bishop showing up at her front door in West Harbor with flowers in his hand and a nervous smile on his face, prepared to meet her father for the first time. Then Daeghun would come join Dilys at the door to greet him, ready to judge whether he would be worthy of his foster daughter or not.

It was a distorted mirror of reality, to be sure. One in which Bishop was a man actually willing and able to be presented to her father, and Daeghun cared enough to regard him. Instead Dilys was lacking in affection from both parties, and she could only laugh mirthlessly at how completely disconnected from the truth that image was.

"Now that would be quite the surprise," she said, her tired smile not reaching her eyes.

"Surprises and me travel together," Bishop said slyly. "You should know that by now." Dilys knew it very well indeed. She felt like she couldn't take her eyes off the ranger even now, or he'd sneak up behind her the next instant.

"For another surprise," he added. "Why don't you show me on the map you have there where your dead friends are." Dilys simply stared at him in speculation for a moment, and he stared right back, his intense gaze looking oddly smug. She then held out the map to him, and he took it from her, never breaking eye contact. Dilys was utterly transfixed.

Elanee looked from Dilys to Bishop and back again. The tension between the two was completely _stifling_. They looked at each other with such intensity it seemed to overpower all other influences, and Elanee wondered if they even remembered her presence. She didn't know what was, or more likely _wasn't_, going on between them, but she sensed they would reach a breaking point right then and there if she didn't speak up.

"They're in the Mere, along the northwestern reaches," she ventured, attempting to return their attention to the subject at hand. Bishop turned to her almost reluctantly and then nodded.

"That's near an area the King of Shadows isn't likely to have claimed yet," he replied. Elanee didn't hold his attention for long though, and he turned to look at the map before addressing Dilys. "If you want to go, I can guide you to a safe port on the edge of the marsh."

"All right, that would be welcome," Elanee said, anxious to get under way.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Dilys said warily. Not a single one of them was sure whether she was talking about finding the Circle, or Bishop's involvement in the task.

"I don't think this is something we should let lie either," Bishop countered.

"Bishop's probably right, Dilys," Elanee said. Dilys turned to face the elf in surprise. She must have been fairly desperate if she was willing to agree with Bishop. Dilys scratched her head, and then nodded slowly.

"Yes... right," she said, feeling very drained. Daeghun withholding his affections, Bishop stirring up her own, and Elanee suddenly needing her help to see to a rather dangerous task... It was a lot to take all at once, and the strain was starting to get to her.

"All right then," Bishop said, smirking with satisfaction. "I'll set out now. I'll start scouting the path, and join up with you only when need be. It'll save us a lot of time." With that, he turned and left through the front gate. Dilys watched wistfully after his retreating form.

"I'm going to have to compliment his skills again..." she muttered under her breath. Elanee turned to her, an inquisitive look on her face. But Dilys was too preoccupied to notice, and began to walk back to the keep.

"I'll go get ready," she said. "We should probably get moving as soon as we can." Elanee looked back at her one last time, before moving to gather her belongings.

* * *

><p>Dilys kicked the infirmary door open with her boot, and rushed Bishop down the few steps inside. No one at Crossroad Keep other than herself and her companions had been doing any serious fighting yet, so the room was completely empty. She maneuvered them over to a nearby cot situated up against the wall. Removing his arm from its place draped around her shoulders, Dilys gently set him down. Bishop laid back on the cot, his face in a constant grimace of pain.<p>

Dilys ran to the medicine cabinet and flung it open, grabbing up bandages, creams, salves, potions and a knife. She brought it all back over to Bishop and dumped it on the floor, then knelt down next to him. She undid his belt, then went to work on the clasps of his leather armor. If Bishop weren't in so much pain, he would have made a remark about how eagerly she undressed him.

"You're taking too long," he said, struggling to keep his words from coming out as an unintelligible series of groans.

"Sorry," she muttered, staying focused on her task. "It's been a while." Eventually she got through all the clasps, then she gently peeled back the leather armor to see the damage. The burn on his abdomen went through his tunic, but what she could see of his skin looked... painful. She picked up the knife from where she left it on the floor, slowly pulled the fabric away from his body, and carefully cut through the material.

The series of events that led to Bishop getting so badly burned was nothing short of stupid, and Dilys was ashamed that it had happened. Their trek through the dangerous wilds of the Mere and the unexpected battle with the Circle had all gone off without a hitch. Elanee had elected to stay behind, not attached enough to Crossroad Keep or any of its inhabitants to want to go back. Dilys was a little disappointed, but she understood. The two women were never particularly close, so they simply said their goodbyes and set off on the journey home without her.

The remaining group consisted of Dilys, Bishop, Neeshka, and Qara. It was a mistake to bring Qara along. It always was. But fire was good against the undead and trees, so she would have been of use. It wasn't until they were practically at the Keep's doorstep that a group of bandits decided the four of them looked like easy prey and attacked.

The bandits were a joke, and the fight would have been a cakewalk. But Qara had been out of the action for a long time, and was determined to toss as many fireballs as she could on this journey. The flames drastically reduced the size of safe ground on the battlefield, leaving the rest of them to fight in very cramped conditions. When Dilys jumped back to dodge a bandit swiping his sword at her, she crashed right into Bishop, accidentally pushing him into the path of one of Qara's fireballs. The situation was made even worse since they were down one and without a healer, so Bishop had to be dragged in pain the rest of the way to the keep after they quickly did away with the remaining bandits.

Dilys knew she was to blame for not being aware of everyone's positions at all times, especially when they were standing so close together. A fight is always dangerous, and accidentally pushing one of her own teammates could be disastrous no matter the circumstances. Not to mention Dilys was the leader, and it was her job not to let this sort of thing happen.

"That was my favorite shirt," Bishop ground out once Dilys had cut away the remaining fabric. She stared at his face for a brief moment, amazed that even when he was in obvious pain, Bishop could be so very... Bishop.

She returned her attention to his burn to inspect it. Potions would be able to handle more superficial wounds, but she was able to recognize that the burn needed magic healing.

"I'll go get Zhjaeve," she said standing up and rushing over to the door.

"I'll be damned if I let her lay her clammy hands on me," Bishop hissed through gritted teeth. Dilys stopped in her tracks, unsure of what to do in the face of his blasted stubbornness. With Elanee gone really the only other healer they had was Casavir, and she knew better than to even suggest his services. She could dress his wound herself, but there wasn't much she could do to actually heal him.

Her mind trailed back to her paladin training in her teenage years. There was one healing spell that she had been trying to learn before quitting the order, but it was doubtful she would be able to pull it off now. She had only ever been able to do it once, and it had been a long time since she tried. At a loss for options, she returned to Bishop's side to gently lay both her hands on the burn and closed her eyes.

She heard Bishop take a sharp intake of breath at her touch, and she winced slightly at the sound. Shaking it off, she tried to concentrate on his injury. She focused on the blood pulsing through his veins beneath her hands, and the natural body heat emanating from his skin. She tried to think of warmth, like the feeling of being snug in bed, sitting in front of an inviting fire, and laying in the grass on a summer afternoon.

Dilys felt her hands tingle a bit, but no more than a fuzzy sensation. She tried to concentrate harder to further her efforts. This time she thought of a tender embrace, a feeling of both physical and emotional warmth. She felt her hands grow hot, and she saw a faint source of light behind her eyelids. Bishop released a sigh at the sensation, and she was encouraged by her progress.

She focused on what may have been more of a dream than a memory, of being held by her mother as an infant. The image was all too faint, and she searched for a fresher memory. She shifted her thoughts to holding Bishop in the rain at night, an unexpected comfort in a time of trial. The light grew brighter as she concentrated on the warmth of his body against hers, and the gratefulness she felt that he was there with her. All too soon the embrace was over, and he was removing her arms from around his waist. Dilys frowned at the thought, and she felt the magic from her hands fade away until it was gone.

She opened her eyes to find the culprit staring back at her, the rough and charred skin under her hands now smooth, with only a few ashen flakes and a bit of redness as evidence that he was injured. She took her hands away and marveled at her own handiwork, perplexed that the ability came to her so easily.

"What did you do?" Bishop asked, fingering the damaged area.

"It's an old technique back from my paladin training," Dilys said, looking at her hands. "I'm not normally able to do it."

"Well, I'm not in blinding pain anymore," Bishop said, cringing as he sat up. "Still sore though." He removed the remains of the leather armor and tunic, and tossed them to the floor before lying back down.

With the urgency of the situation now gone, Dilys remembered that she had been trying to avoid being alone with Bishop. His sudden shirtlessness seemed to multiply that need tenfold. She shuffled through the containers on the floor until she found a healing salve intended for minor burns. Gathering that and a roll of bandages, she stood up from her kneeling position and held out the items to him.

"If you rub some of this on the burn then the pain should ease fairly quickly," she said. "I'm going to go upstairs and put my armor away."

"That's funny, I thought I just heard you tell me to dress the wound myself," he said, glaring angrily at her. "Seeing as you're mostly responsible, I _know_ I couldn't have heard you right." Dilys gave a defeated sigh before bringing her hand back down. Bishop had a point. "Just toss your armor into the pile along with mine," he said, closing his eyes.

Dilys did as he said, removing her half plate and gauntlets and setting them on the ground next to his tattered leathers. Then she returned to her kneeling position on the floor and scooped some salve out of its jar. She put the ointment on the area of burned skin and began to gently massage the wound.

"I'm never going to live this down am I?" she asked, concentrating on keeping her breathing steady. The sensation of his skin against hers as she rubbed her fingers over his body was difficult to ignore.

"Definitely not," Bishop replied with a satisfied sigh as she treated him.

"I _am_ sorry though," she said. Try as she might, how very good his abdominal muscles felt under her hands was undeniable. Perhaps focusing on her guilt over getting him injured would help distract her.

"I was... careless," she added. Bishop opened his eyes and looked at her for a quiet moment as she tended to his burn.

"You've been careless a lot lately," he said, inquiring more than accusing. Her face darkened at his comment and she was silent for a long moment. She was very aware of this.

"...Yeah," she said hoarsely as she put the lid back on the jar for the salve. She retrieved the bandages next, and motioned for him to sit up. He put his feet on the floor and leaned back on his hands as she stood up and unrolled the bandages.

"I haven't been handling the stress very well," she said, as she leaned over him and began wrapping the bandages around his midsection. "Not exactly the sign of a respectful leader..." She had to wrap her arms around him to dress his wound, forcing her close enough to breathe in his scent. He smelled... burned. But beneath the smoky odor there was also an underlying aroma of sweat and wood. The scent of a ranger, of a man. Of Bishop.

It took everything in her power to not simply close her eyes and lean in to embrace him fully, wanting so badly just to feel his warm body against hers. Being near someone had never felt so maddening as it did with Bishop.

"Well you haven't screwed anything up _too_ badly," Bishop said, giving one of his quality pep talks. "Besides, I wouldn't be here if I didn't respect you," he added. Dilys snickered.

"What, as a capable fighter?" she asked. It certainly wasn't because of her grace.

"...A capable _woman_," he said.

Dilys had her arms wrapped around him when spoke, and her movement slowed at his words. She certainly never thought he would say anything like _that_ to her. Her heart began to race, and she brought the bandage back around to tie it in the front, not daring to look at his face. His face was very close to hers, and she was stricken with a very powerful urge to kiss him. If she were to look up and meet his eyes, she knew she would not be able to resist.

And with him sitting conveniently half-naked on a cot as he was, it wouldn't be just a kiss.

"Maybe there's hope for me yet then," she said quietly, bending down to pick up the rest of the healing items. She knew her face was very red as she walked to the cupboard to return them to their proper place, so she was glad for an excuse to turn her back to him.

They were both quiet for a moment as she put the items away. When she turned around again, Bishop spoke. "There was something I wanted to check... In one of the pouches on my leather armor," he said. "I was wondering if it was singed by the fireball." Dilys walked over and knelt by the remains of his armor to grab the row of pouches.

"This one?" she asked, picking up the most burned compartment.

"No, the biggest one," he replied. "On the backside." Dilys shifted to the biggest pouch to see that it hadn't been burned at all. When she opened it up to fish out what was inside, she froze.

She recognized the faded yellow yarn immediately, and gently pulled the doll out of the pouch. It was the doll from her childhood, the one Bishop had refused to return back in her room in West Harbor. "You kept it?" she asked, confused at his actions.

"For safekeeping, remember?" he said. "Seeing as how West Harbor is now destroyed, it looks like I made the right call."

Dilys stared at the doll in wonder. She had lost everyone in West Harbor. It never occurred to her that she had lost every_thing_ as well. But here was a little piece of her life from long ago, back in the hands of the Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep.

"I figure you could keep it around," he said nonchalantly. "Give it a squeeze when you get stressed." Dilys did as he suggested and squeezed the doll, letting out a soft chuckle.

She _did_ feel better. Not because the doll was a stress reliever, or because she was happy to have part of her childhood back... But because it was Bishop who made her feel better, and that he had wanted to. It was a little bit of salve to ease the burning sting her feelings for him gave her. Perhaps those feelings weren't _all_ quite so torturous.

"Bishop," she said, at last looking back up at him. She gave him a warm smile, full of genuine happiness and affection. "Thank you." He gazed silently back at her for a long moment, before giving a small nod of his head.

"I would have thought killing those bandits to be a good stress reliever actually," he said, looking away from her. "I know _I_ enjoyed it...until I was hit with a fireball, that is." Dilys laughed quietly, but stopped when she heard someone on the steps entering the infirmary.

"I heard you were the Knight Captain of the keep, but it was hard to believe. Nice to see you Dilys."

"Bevil!" Dilys shouted in surprise. She immediately stood up and ran over to greet her friend, throwing her arms around him in a big hug.

"It's me all right," Bevil said laughingly, hugging her back.

"I looked for you in West Harbor," Dilys said. She pulled back, but kept her hands on his shoulders. "I thought you'd been killed."

"No..." he said, his face falling. "I'd already left West Harbor. Guess I was on the road when it happened." Dilys wrapped her arms around him again for a hug.

"It's so good to see you," she said, the relief plain in her voice.

Bevil smiled happily as he hugged Dilys tightly. Growing up in West Harbor, Dilys and Amie had been his best friends. So as the guy always hanging around two beautiful women, he had become accustomed to looks of jealousy.

But the look Bevil was getting from the man sitting on the cot wasn't mere jealously... that look was murderous. Bevil had never felt so threatened in his life, and from the man's state of undress he could tell that he had very likely interrupted something important. He became suddenly aware that it was most likely in his best interests to stop hugging Dilys.

"Uh, Dilys," Bevil said, pulling back from her. "I have to go check in with the sergeant out on the training grounds. Can we meet up at the Phoenix Tail later?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," she said. "Go do what you have to do." Bevil smiled warmly back at Dilys, then high tailed it out of the infirmary as fast as he could. Dilys gave a relieved sigh as she watched him go, elated to find her friend alive. Then she turned around to regard Bishop.

"So," he said, when she returned her attention to him. "Your old boyfriend has come home." Dilys replied with a goofy smile and sat down on the cot next to him.

"It's not like that," she said casually. "Bevil is like my brother." Bishop leaned on one elbow and stared back at her, his face devoid of any amusement.

"I seem to remember your old mentor back in West Harbor saying something about how hooked a boy was to you growing up," he said. "And that Bevil of yours seemed pretty hooked to me." Dilys answered him with a shrug.

"That may be, but I was never interested in him in that way," she said. "I'm still not." Bishop sat up, wondering at the nature of this conversation.

"How's your burn?" Dilys asked, changing the subject. "Are you good to go?"

"Always," he replied without a second thought.

"Great," she replied, standing up from the cot. "We can get moving again sooner then." She bent to pick up her armor and gauntlets, while Bishop leaned over again. The implication was that she would rather wait for him to heal than replace him.

"Oh, and Bishop?" she said. Bishop looked up again, surprised to find her face right next to his. She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks again," she said, standing up straight and walking to the exit. She was gone before Bishop could even register what happened. It wasn't until he brought his hand up to where she kissed his cheek did he realize...

He was in too deep.

* * *

><p><strong>'Lay on Hands' is a Level 2 paladin ability that allows for some nifty once a day healing. I think level 2 is right around the time Dilys quit her paladin training and stuck to being a regular fighter.<strong>


	15. A Sturdy Wood

Against the backdrop of the rising full moon, Bishop could just barely make out the silhouettes of their forms atop the keep walls. As the heavily-armored figure moved to take her hand in his, he couldn't help but to grind his teeth. He knew he shouldn't be feeling the irrational rage he was currently experiencing at the sight before him. In fact, it had been his intention to leave the keep that very night without looking back, and certainly without saying goodbye. But once he was treated to this... _unfortunate_ scene, the only thing he could think about was his strong desire to crush the head of that silhouette beneath his boot and lay claim to the opposite silhouette.

Bishop roughly ran his hands through his hair before bringing them down to cover his face. He had never made the move on her. He gave up the hunt, gave up the game. It was senseless to feel any sort of jealousy or possessiveness towards her. She wasn't his to possess. He lowered his hands from his eyes to see the more feminine of the two figures place a hand on the shoulder of the other for a moment, before walking off towards the stairs. The wrath clouding Bishop's eyes cleared to leave behind complete focus. He made the decision right then and there to rectify his problem that very night.

He walked over to the corner of the Phoenix Tail and leaned against the wall to wait. Bishop rubbed his eyes and tried to clear his head, knowing that if he was involuntarily giving her his bedroom eyes he might prematurely tip his hand and ruin his chances. When he looked back up to the keep walls, he couldn't help but smirk in satisfaction. That remaining silhouette looked rejected and utterly pathetic. He hoped she finally rid the paladin of his ridiculous delusions and caused him great pain in the process.

Bishop didn't have to wait long before he was rewarded with the sight of the Knight-Captain emerging from the base of the stairs on the keep walls. Her appearance was drained as she brushed away the ever present loose strands of hair. She didn't notice him waiting in the shadows as she began to unbuckle her armor and make her way to the keep. Bishop spoke up before she walked past him.

"So... the paladin finally spilled his guts to you." Dilys stopped in her tracks when she saw him. When Casavir told her his feelings she could think of nothing _but_ Bishop. How she couldn't even consider another man as long as Bishop was around. How she wished it was him up on the walls professing his affection instead of Casavir. And how she knew it to be impossible. She felt very morose coming down those stairs, and to suddenly find the culprit not only waiting for her, but to learn that he had apparently watched the whole scene unfold was... frustrating. To Bishop, she simply appeared weary and not happy to see him.

"No. I didn't think he'd be willing to stab himself on my account, so I didn't ask," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Bishop gave a knowing smirk. Her encounter with the paladin had not left her in a good mood, but it was in that state that he would be best able to draw her out. Her frustration would focus her mind on her more selfish instincts, leaving her less likely to resist.

"A more personal confession then," he replied with a sly turn of the head. Dilys glanced away for a moment before she answered. Her discussion with Casavir was private, but she had an irrational urge to let Bisop know she had turned him down.

"Yeah," she said. "He declared his undying devotion to me. And no, I didn't return the gesture." Bishop opened his mouth to deliver an acerbic remark before she cut him off. "And I'm _not_ going to go into the details so you can rub salt into his wounds later. I'd rather erase it from my mind and just retire for the evening," she said, continuing on to the keep as she resumed her task of unbuckling her half-plate. Bishop pushed himself off of the tavern wall and joined her by her side.

"And here I thought you shared my love for seeing the paladin suffer," Bishop cut, quite satisfied that she had confirmed what he had seen on the keep walls.

"Oh, yes," she bit back. "I'm quite the sadistic mistress. But paladins are so unwilling to experiment." The guard at the keep door dropped his jaw as they passed by him. Bishop laughed under his breath as the Knight-Captain finally managed to remove her armor, completely ignoring the stares the guard was giving her from her comment. She simply smoothed her shirt out a bit, hooked the armor under her arm and walked into the keep.

Other than a few guards here and there, everyone was in the dining hall or already in their own quarters. The keep was quiet, and they both knew it was the calm before the storm. How long that calm would last however, no one could say. Bishop was still unsatisfied, so he decided to lay out a little bait as they made their way to the east wing.

"I'm actually surprised you didn't jump at the chance for a storybook ending with the paladin. You've got your fairy tale castle, why would you turn down your knight in shining armor, hm?" Bishop drew his words out slowly so that they stung a little more, and Dilys felt her frustration rise to new heights. That he could even ask a question that was wrong on so many levels made her want to throw him against the wall and punch him in the mouth. With her lips.

"Just because I've got this keep doesn't mean I have to play the distressed damsel." She was so preoccupied with how much she wished she _wasn't_ having this conversation, that she didn't notice that they had passed by the door to his room and continued down the hall without stopping. "Why are you asking questions you already know the answers to?" she probed.

"Just getting to know the great Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep," he answered innocently.

"You know me well enough already," she said. They had arrived at her room and she reached for the handle. Her hand paused on it when he spoke behind her.

"I was thinking of getting to know you a little more... intimately," he said, his voice as provocative as could be. Dilys felt her breath get caught in her throat. She very much knew how intimately she'd like to know Bishop, but she also knew how she couldn't. Dilys turned her back to the door with her eyebrows raised and an inquisitive spark in her eyes.

"Was there something you had in mind?" she asked, doing her best not to think about what she now couldn't stop thinking about.

"You know _exactly_ what I have in mind," he began, stretching his arm out behind her to lean his weight on the door, bringing his body dangerously close to hers. He wasn't taller than her by much, but he lauded that little bit over her right then. "An all out war has begun, and we may not have many nights left. I don't intend to waste this one." Her heart raced at the implications. It was often hard to tell if he was being serious or just trying to intimidate her. But the words he was saying now weren't really anything new, it was the _way_ he said them that was different.

"Besides," he continued. "After all you've been through today a storybook ending just wouldn't do, would it? You need a chance to _enjoy_ yourself." He reached his other arm behind her head and pulled the sticks from her hair, letting her brilliant locks fall down her shoulders. They clattered to the floor, and he rested his other hand on the door, effectively caging her with his arms. "To let your hair down," he finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her breathing became shallow and her gold eyes clouded with uncertainty as he stared her down, his nose mere inches away from hers. She wondered why the two human men in her life would choose the night after a counter-offensive to try to win her affections. Perhaps they figured she would be too tired to refuse. But no, she knew their reasons were as diverse and as complex as their personalities, and this was a very different situation than up on the keep walls with Casavir. He had not been this close, forcing her pulse to quicken. His voice was not as low, brimming with suggestion. And their goals were entirely unalike; one wanting to profess his love, the other...

Dilys knew better than to expect something like that from him. The situation was much more daunting than any iron golem. An opponent like that she at least knew how to beat. But with Bishop's keen eyes watching her as he would his prey, she realized she would surely be defeated.

She swallowed as subtly as she could before saying, "I've already turned down Casavir this evening, Bishop. What makes you think I would yield to you?" His eyes darted across her face, scrutinizing her.

"Because I'm not a fairy tale." He inched closer ever so slightly, a predatory grin dancing on his lips. "I'm a _real_ man, just as you're a real woman. And I think it's time to take this game we've been playing and make it..." She watched his mouth, waiting for him to form the words as he slowly - _painfully_ slowly, drew closer.

"Real..." he whispered, his breath hot on her mouth as his lips finally descended on to hers. His touch silenced the alarm bells going off in her head at his closeness until she could hear nothing but the sound of her own pounding heart. He kissed her incredibly softly, so that his lips were barely brushing against hers. Somewhere in the haze of Dilys's mind, a thought formed. The kiss wasn't nearly passionate enough. After holding back an ocean of desire for him, it was endlessly frustrating that only a mere trickle was now being allowed through. It only made her want _more_.

She inadvertently let out a sigh, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth, bringing a hand to her face. Any thought or feeling that kissing Bishop would be a bad idea had long since vanished. His lips were just so unexpectedly soft, so warm, that there was no way she could stop now even if she wanted to. The power he had over her caused her knees to go weak, and at the same time she felt the armor in her hand slide from her grasp and clatter to the ground with a loud clang.

The sound of the armor hitting the floor was deafening, and Bishop slowly opened his eyes in realization and pulled back, stepping away from her. Dilys gazed at him with half-lidded eyes, dazed and breathing heavily. He looked back with a penetrating stare, his face blank as if the last few minutes hadn't happened. A door opened somewhere down the hall behind Bishop, and Qara poked her head out.

"Did something just break out here? I thought I heard a sound," she asked. Bishop turned to face her, his usual patronizing manner in full swing, but also accompanied by a noticeable strain of impatience.

"Nothing for you to concern _your_self with little empress," Bishop said calmly. Almost too calmly, to the point that it became threatening. Their companions seemed to have a supernatural ability to interrupt them whenever things got interesting, and since Bishop wanted nothing to do with anyone but Dilys, he found it extremely trying. "Just go back to your room before you end up 'accidentally' burning any of us again."

Qara huffed and did what most people did when confronted with Bishop's attitude did. She ignored him, closing the door to her room without offering him a response. Bishop gave a grim smirk, keeping his back turned to the one woman who would not ignore him, lamenting his weakness for being unable to ignore _her_.

"Well..." he said, pausing before he could say anything more. He wanted to turn around, bust open that door and throw Dilys on the bed so they could finally get down to business. But at the same time he knew that if he could just put one foot in front of the other and walk away, he could avoid any messy complications that would arise and just leave, never to see her again. That would be the simplest route by far, and also the best for saving his own hide. But despite all of his survival instincts telling him to leave, he was finding it very difficult to move his legs. "Goodnight," he said flatly, and managed to take a few stiff steps away from her down the hall.

His walking away triggered something in Dilys. She had kissed plenty of boys in her lifetime, but never before had she ever felt _anything_ that could compare to what she experienced kissing Bishop. Perhaps it was a consequence of suppressing her desire for as long as she had, or maybe it was an indication that her feelings for him ran far deeper than she realized. She didn't know. As Dilys stood there in the cold stone hallway, watching him walk away from her after that incomparable moment had passed, she knew only three things:

She _knew_ he was dangerous... that getting close to him was almost a guarantee of getting hurt.

She _knew_ he did not love her... or care about her the way that she cared about him.

But she _knew_, more than anything else... that she wanted that moment back.

"Wait," she called. The single syllable cut through the air, commanding and certain. Bishop stopped in his tracks, releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He turned around, waiting for her to speak again. "Come in," she said calmly, before turning around and opening her bedroom door to slip into the room.

It wasn't a request, it was an order. Bishop hated being ordered to do anything, even if the order was incredibly agreeable. The recognition that he was being told what to do registered in his mind, but didn't take root however. Orders were restrictive, forcing him into a confined space and tying him down. What she had said was instead liberating, allowing him access to unexplored territory. Bishop felt a strange sense of freedom as he followed after her.

Once inside, he found Dilys lighting the candelabra by the door, having already set her armor down by the chair in the corner. He spied her doll sitting in the chair, and couldn't help but grin at it. The rest of the room was fairly undecorated, having been repaired only fairly recently. There was a wardrobe at the far end of the room, a desk right by the door, and a few rugs laid out across the floor. The room was nothing like the bedroom he had seen in West Harbor, and it felt wholly detached from its owner.

Bishop shut the door behind him as he turned to face Dilys. She had finished lighting the candles and walked a little further into the room, before she stopped and just stood there with her back to him. Bishop slowly walked up behind her, wary of scaring her off and getting kicked out of her room.

"If we do this," Dilys said quietly when he was standing right behind her. "We won't be able to stop."

"Then what are we waiting for?" he asked, an incredulous smirk forming on his face.

Bishop suddenly found himself pinned against the door, her mouth smothering his own in a forceful kiss. He was surprised with her sudden ferocity. In all the time they had traveled together, he had never seen Dilys move that fast. He quickly recovered from his surprise and responded to the kiss, snaking his arms around her waist in a tight grip. This seemed to spur her on more, and she deepened the kiss while pulling at his hair in a less than tender way. She hungrily devoured his mouth as if he was the first piece of food she had in days, causing a revelation to dawn upon Bishop.

Dilys _wanted_ him. Badly. Despite all the misgivings she had about getting involved with him, the constant reminders from friends and strangers that he couldn't be trusted, the ever-present paladin offering a much safer option, and even his own disoriented attempts to keep her emotionally distant… She wanted _him_, and nobody else.

Truthfully it made no sense. They were too different. But at the same time he knew that parts of them were incredibly similar. The parts that lay beneath his cold exterior, to the depths that even he did not dare delve. He knew that being here with her was much too personal, that it was something more than simply sating carnal desire. He would never be _allowed_ in this situation with her unless there was more to it than that. His cold logic told him to leave, to escape before she truly tied him down.

But it was hard to be logical when her well toned body was pressed up against his, her lips smothering him with such passion, her fingers deftly unbuckling his spaulders. The thoughts that warned him away from her were the same ones that kept him there, the reasons clouding together in some sort of muddy idea of extreme attraction. He didn't know what force it was that drew them together, or why they seemed to have such chemistry in spite of his constant verbal barbs. All Bishop knew was that, like Dilys, he ignored his better judgment to keep away from her, because more than anything he wanted _her_.

His decision to throw caution to the wind, and his realization that she had begun undressing him, caused his desire to surge, prompting a small groan to pass from his lips. He needed to free her from the confines of her clothing. _Now_.

Fortunately she had not yet unbuckled the belt that kept his dagger strapped across his chest. He quickly unsheathed the dagger and sliced the laces on her blouse in one swift swipe, leaving the shirt useless. Dilys pulled back for a moment and looked at him hazily, something in the back of her mind telling her that what he just did was dangerous. Bishop tossed the dagger to the floor and pulled her back towards his mouth however, unwilling to loose physical contact with her. She readily complied, and discarded his knife belt and began to work at the clasps on his light armor.

Bishop took his hands off of her long enough to pull off his leather gauntlets, eager to be able to properly _feel_ her. Dilys seemed to be having trouble with the many clasps on his leathers, giving a frustrated sigh and moving down to unwrap the belt from his waist. So Bishop took advantage of her distraction to drag the remains of her blouse off of her shoulders and untuck her undershirt from her trousers, slowly sliding his bare hands underneath her shirt and up along her back.

Dilys released a quiet gasp at the sensation of having his hands on her, and with closed eyes arched her back as he caressed her skin. Bishop kissed her neck with equal fervor, delighted that he was able to have such an effect on her with a mere touch. He slowly moved his fingers down her spine, splaying out his hand on the small of her back. His other hand moved to the hem of her thin undershirt and pulled it up towards her ribs.

Dilys opened her eyes at the realization that she would very soon be half naked. Even now they were still playing some sort of game, and she did not want to be put in a more vulnerable state of undress first. She brought her arms up to grasp the lapels of Bishop's leather armor and tucked her elbows in, pinning her shirt to her body so that it could not be removed. With a force she normally reserved for the battlefield, she ripped the clasps from the seams on his armor to tear it open. She was looking forward to putting her hands on his bare chest again, only to sound off an impatient groan when she found he was wearing a thin cotton tunic underneath.

Bishop chuckled softly at her reaction and once again brought his mouth down on hers in a greedy kiss, then swung her around and pinned _her_ back up against the door. Dilys struggled as he pushed the weight of his body against hers, avid to reclaim dominance. The ranger merely grinned against her mouth in response and slid his hands down to her behind, grasping her firmly and lifting her up against the door so that she would have to wrap her legs around his waist.

Dilys frowned at being caged up against the door, but was determined to remain in control no matter what position she was in. She gripped Bishop with her strong thighs and brought her hands to roughly cup his face, then leaned over and once again kissed him savagely, biting his lower lip in a none too gentle fashion. He made a sound of mild pain at her assault but otherwise remained unfazed. They had descended into the primal long ago, and a little animalistic aggression was not only expected, but _exciting_.

His grip on her rear tightened and he ground up against her, bringing his lips further down to assault her collarbone with kisses. He grabbed the fabric of her thin undershirt with his teeth and pulled back, locking eyes with Dilys. The hungry and demanding look in his eyes made his intent clear; either take off the shirt or he would tear it off. Dilys gave him a bold grin, pinning her arms to her sides and dragging her nails down his chest. Bishop groaned at the sensation, and responded to it by pulling back and ripping her shirt open in the process. As he began his onslaught anew on her suddenly exposed flesh, Dilys reached for his trousers, unfastening them as quickly as possible.

It was then that the pair realized the folly of being pinned up against the door. Not only were Bishop's hands occupied, leaving him unable to demonstrate how dexterous his skilled fingers could be, but Dilys would remain trapped in her trousers as long as her legs were wrapped around the ranger's waist. They were very much enjoying each other in the position they were, but unless they moved their enjoyment would go no further.

Bishop quickly understood this, so he pulled Dilys back away from the door, and dropped her back on the nearby desk. His hands now freed, he let them wander underneath the tattered remains of her undershirt as he resumed kissing her. When his fingers trailed over the rough skin of the scar on her chest, Dilys tensed up almost painfully, and stopped kissing.

Bishop pulled back and looked at her face, annoyed at her sudden stiffness, and perhaps a little angry. Dilys cast her gaze off to the side, refusing to make eye contact. He scoffed in frustration, and pulled her shirt out of the way to reveal her scar. He then brought his head down and dragged his tongue slowly over the rough surface, before kissing the damaged tissue several times. She seemed to relax again at his administrations, so he gave her scar one last doting kiss before bringing his face back up to hers. She met his expectant gaze with a type of reluctant smile. Bishop decided he liked that smile, and claimed it with his own lips as he continued roaming his hands over her body.

The breastplate Dilys had a habit of wearing did an admirable job of protecting what lay beneath, and her soft flesh felt so unbelievably smooth in Bishop's hands that it drove him a little bit crazy. What little control he had left was beginning to fray, so when he found Dilys slipping her hands into his trousers again, he decided it would be a good time to remove hers. Reluctantly removing himself from his position between her thighs, he hooked his fingers into her pants and pulled them off completely, savoring the feel of her bare legs on his fingers.

Bishop paused for a moment, slowly leaning over and staring into her eyes as she lay back on the desk. The expression on her face was marvelous. Never had he seen a look so full of longing, not just for his finely tuned body, or for what his particular skill set could do for her, but longing for _him_. _All_ of him. It was a foreign feeling to be wanted so completely by someone, and was an aphrodisiac like no other. His lust-clouded mind couldn't even comprehend the danger such a condition could present to him, real or imagined.

"Don't stop," Dilys whispered huskily, sending any sort of controlled behavior out the window. Bishop grinned wildly as he gripped her thighs, only too willing to comply.

The desk they had settled on was newly built, constructed specifically for the refurnishing of the Knight-Captain's quarters. It was well made, and cut from a sturdy wood that could withstand any sort of abuse its owner could throw at it. Whoever had commissioned the desk however, could not have predicted that it would ever be put to use in the way it was now. It was fortunate that it was such a high quality desk, as a lesser desk may have collapsed under such unrestrained movement. Other than a rhythmic creaking that inevitably accompanied such energetic motions, this desk showed no sign of duress.

The contents of the desk certainly went flying as the activity on its surface became more exuberant. Parchment, quills, a couple of books, and scrolls were either forcefully shoved out of the way or simply fell to the floor as the desk was moved out from underneath the items, but the desk itself held strong. It was surely a sign of excellent craftsmanship that the furniture did not fall to pieces as the strain on it reached a peak, before finally ceasing.

It was a very good desk indeed, and Dilys would be sure to find whoever made the thing and shake his hand.

Bishop pushed himself up and leaned against the wall as he caught his breath. He wiped the sweat off his brow and stared at the bed, thinking it probably would have been a lot more comfortable, or the floor, figuring it would have been easier to maneuver into a different position. He looked anywhere but at Dilys.

He knew he needed to gather up his clothes and leave as quickly as possible, to get as far away from the keep as he could. As far away from Dilys as he could. If he could do that, then he'd have won. He got what he wanted from her and he would never see her again. Maybe he would write a nice long letter to Duncan detailing how he repaid his favor by 'servicing' his niece. What a complete victory that would be.

At the moment though, he just needed to regain his energy. He knew Dilys was supposed to have celestial ancestry, but from the fatigue he felt he wondered if she wasn't part succubus. It took a lot to keep up with her, and as a result he felt completely exhausted. He bent over to at least pick up his leather armor, but didn't move beyond that.

Bishop heard Dilys get up from off the desk, but kept his eyes glued to the floor, not saying anything. She passed in front of him to the other side of the door, but he didn't realize what she was doing until she had already blown out the candles and he found himself standing in darkness. "What-" he said, before his armor was torn from his grasp and he felt himself be grabbed by the waist and thrown onto the bed.

"What the hells are you doing?" he shouted, sitting up on the bed. He was pushed back down however, and found his hands pulled up above his head and bound by a sheet. Bishop could feel Dilys working her fingers as she tied the makeshift rope to the headboard of the bed. He quickly understood her intent when he remembered that her Aasimar eyes would allow her to adjust to the dark a lot quicker than he could, if the meager light of the window was enough for him to see by at all.

"No. I'm done here," he said flatly, struggling against his bindings. "Let me go." The give on the knot keeping his arms restrained was loose enough that he should be able to untie it himself. It would take time though, and every second he wasted in her room under her control dragged him closer to defeat.

"Look Bishop," Dilys said, a shuffling sound joining her voice from the foot of the bed. "I know that because you're you and I'm me, you probably have a crazy, irrational urge to bolt out of here as soon as possible." Dilys climbed into the bed, but otherwise didn't touch the ranger. "But there are a lot of things I've been wanting to do with you for a long, long time." Bishop felt her hand come to rest on his chest. "And believe me when I tell you that you'll enjoy it."

"Dammit Dilys, untie me!" Bishop did not want to hear what she had to say, and instead tried very hard not to imagine what 'things' she had been talking about. Dilys removed her hand from his chest and laughed softly. "...What?" Bishop asked, extremely wary of her behavior.

"I guess I'm not Little Dash anymore," she said. Bishop squinted through the darkness as his eyes slowly adjusted. He could just barely make out the soft smile on her face, before she gave a heavy sigh. "But I won't keep you here against your will," she said. "I want to be sure though..."

Dilys got onto her hands and knees and crawled towards Bishop until she was on top of him. She had gotten close enough for him to be able to see that she had removed what was left of her clothing and was now completely naked. Bishop suddenly found himself no longer drained of energy, and began to feel utterly insatiable instead. The Aasimar's eyes were completely predatory as she leaned over him and brought her lips close to his, before asking in an all-too-sultry voice, "Do you _really_ want to leave?" Bishop didn't even consider the question.

"Hells no."

Dilys brought her mouth down on his in a passionate kiss as she did away with his remaining garments.

There was no urgency driving them now. They were instead slow and deliberate, taking the time to drive each other to the brink of the abyss before backing away again. Bishop had even managed to fairly quickly free his hands and made good use of them. They enjoyed each other to the fullest, and reached a level of intimacy neither had experienced before.

* * *

><p><strong>This was the first one-shot that started it all, the scene so blatantly missing from the game that everybody wants to write it. I had to completely redo it once there was an actual story behind it though, and cut out massive amounts of exposition.<strong>

**Still long enough that it had to be split into two chapters though, so this magic moment will continue on next week. And sorry if that discretion cut to the table was a little jarring, it's the best way to keep this thing PG-13. ;)**


	16. Heaven

Bishop was not the cuddling type. In fact, the very concept itself was something he found laughable. But as he lay on his back in the bed, sweaty, naked, and catching his breath, he found he quite enjoyed the feeling of Dilys sprawled out on top of him in a similar state. Perhaps it was because she didn't feel cuddly, and instead felt like perfectly trained muscle that could go toe to toe with him and have a chance of winning. She felt _dangerous_ in his arms, not comforting. And it felt _right_.

He was so content where he was that he started having dangerous thoughts, such as when was the last time he had a steady lover. Malin, he supposed, and that was quite some time ago. But Malin was nowhere near this agreeable. It was almost a chore to keep her around most days, even if she was willing to satisfy him. But what would it have been like if it was Dilys who was always around instead?

Dilys would almost certainly get lost if she had ever tried to wander off on her own. She was aware of her own shortcomings however, and as long as she stayed out of the way in areas she was unskilled in, she wouldn't be too much of a problem. Dilys was actually more likely to just let Bishop lead the way, guiding her through a forest or scouting ahead on a trail.

Bishop always got a particular thrill out of having her require his skills. If she told him she needed to make use of his abilities out in the secluded wilderness he might just have to take her right then and there.

Dilys was able to take care of herself in a fight though. Hunting difficult prey would be easy with her there to take the beast down. Bishop could track some snarling animal for days with Dilys by his side, eventually leading them to the cave it made its home. Instead of having to lay out elaborate traps for the creature, he could just have Dilys stand at the entrance and fight the thing when it emerged. A wild animal would fall to her blade just as Lorne had.

Bishop always got a particular thrill out of seeing her vanquish a foe. If he watched her take down a vicious animal by herself and he didn't even have to help, he might just have to take her right then and there.

Bishop would have to teach Dilys how to skin and cook an animal too. She already had the basics down from her lifetime in West Harbor, it was just a matter of knowing how to really live off the land instead of plucking some farm animal. Camping out for long periods of time was not the same as the traveling from place to place they had done on their journey, and she would have to learn the importance of keeping a fire going.

Bishop always got a particular thrill out of seeing the effect of firelight on the Aasimar's golden eyes. If she were to glance his way while tending to a fire, he might just have to take her right...

Maybe camping with Dilys wasn't such a good idea after all. If it was anything like he imagined it, they would end up starving to death in the middle of nowhere, because he'd be too distracted to do anything other than see to Dilys instead of actually trying to survive. It would definitely be an enjoyable last few days of life though, that was to be sure.

Bishop smiled to himself. That wouldn't _really_ be a problem. He was only distracted now because he had pushed his desire to the absolute limit before he actually had the damn woman, and was simply making up for lost time. But they wouldn't be wasting any time out in the wilderness. They would be sharing a shelter, and he'd be able to enjoy her soft sighs and passionate embraces every night. So if he _did_ get distracted out in the wild, he would only have to wait until evening to sate his desire, instead of the eternity he seemed to have waited on this journey.

Bishop felt Dilys sigh after she caught her breath. He wondered if she was thinking about the same thing. He _had_ suggested running off together before, and she had actually agreed to it. A lot had happened since then though, and he had abandoned that plan. But he'd waited around far too long, and now the coming massacre was looming on the horizon.

There were two clear paths that lay before him if he wanted to escape with his life intact. The first option was to leave now, as he had planned to earlier. He could simply walk away and not look back, then he could get on with his life as it was before Dilys had barged into it. Maybe she would come looking for him after the whole King of Shadows business was over and done with. But no, diving straight into enemy territory as she had planned was a suicide mission. Chances were, she would die in that battle, and he would never see her again.

The second option was to leave now, but to take Dilys with him as well. Bishop rather liked what he had imagined for them out on that hidden trail somewhere, and it felt like a future worth craving. It was also the only situation in which he could feel confident in both of their survival. Even Dilys had to see that. It couldn't hurt to ask her. If she declined... then he would just go back to the first option.

"So," Bishop casually began. "About our escape option..." Dilys picked her head up from Bishop's shoulder and looked at him. Her hair was ridiculously messy from their escapades, and she looked like some wild woman just arrived from the forest.

"Camping, you mean?" she asked, clearly recalling the conversation they had during her night in jail. "It's a bit late for that don't you think?"

"Not as long as we're still alive," Bishop countered, his face turning serious. "Look, war's about to hit this place hard, and you aren't going to win. I say we head out now, and let Neverwinter fall."

"You're saying I should just leave?" she asked. Her expression seemed as if she wasn't sure what he was talking about.

"Just you and me, _that's_ what I'm saying," Bishop said. "I can guide the two of us out of here, nobody has to know." Dilys stared at him for a moment, considering his offer, though she appeared more amazed that he had even suggested it in the first place. Finally her face fell, and she cast her eyes away.

"I can't," she said quietly. "I owe it to people to finish what I've started."

"You don't owe anyone a thing," Bishop said irately. "If anything they owe you for all you've already done for them."

"Bishop, the silver shards are a part of me now. I _am_ the Silver Sword of Gith," Dilys said, looking back up at him. "So many people have been dragged into this mess in the first place because of these damn shards. Because of _me_. Shandra, West Harbor, all our companions... you. Everything the shards ruined, _I_ ruined. I have no right to leave."

"You have a right to do whatever you feel like," Bishop replied, quickly getting frustrated with the Aasimar. Dilys simply shook her head and looked back down, tracing along Bishop's collarbone with her finger.

"_You_ could leave," she said quietly. "Save yourself from all this chaos that seems to follow me everywhere. I'd see to it that no one comes after you." Bishop looked at her turned down face as understanding dawned on him. Dilys was suggesting that he go on without her. Of course she wasn't going to leave with him, she didn't even want him here. She could want him, accept him, _enjoy_ him... But she didn't want to be around him.

"Thought as much," Bishop said with a weary sigh of resignation. "These people are like stones, and this war's an ocean. You might have made it out alive but they're dragging you down."

"Well," Dilys replied with a small smile. "I just wanted you to know you don't have to go down with me." She planted a kiss on his neck, then his chest, and continued with a trail of kisses down his body.

Bishop was fairly certain he was done for the evening, but with Dilys it was hard to tell. They had gone several rounds even after he had been sure he was sated. Dilys seemed to have a knack for helping him find his second wind. Or fourth, as she was well on her way of doing now.

He knew she was only doing it do avoid the subject of the conversation, but he couldn't argue with her methods. If this was how she finished arguments then she'd win every time. Perhaps it was for the best that they parted ways after all.

* * *

><p>Bishop laid back quietly with his head propped up on the headboard. The sound of the steady breathing beside him signaled that Dilys had fallen asleep. He got up, and by the faint moonlight spilling through the room's single tiny window, managed to locate his pants and pull them on. He rummaged through the wardrobe and found an extra leather tunic, as she had rendered his to be no longer functional.<p>

As he was about to slip it on he heard her stirring, and looked over to see Dilys roll onto her back. Bishop set the tunic down and moved to the bed, sitting on the edge for a moment, before propping up his elbow and shifting to lounge on his side with his head resting in his hand. Even with the meager light he was provided he could see that she was glorious. Her shiny hair was twisted to one side, displaying her pale neck, and Bishop reached out to touch her before stopping himself.

He knew he had to leave, alone, if he wanted to save himself. It was the only option he had left. But the more he thought about plans he had to make to set out, the more he found himself completely unable to do so. Right before him he saw the possibility for a truly enjoyable life, how could he ever go back to wasting his life away at the bottom of an ale mug? His first option was taken by Dilys, but now his second he was taking away himself. He needed a third option.

Bishop sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed to put his feet on the floor, facing away from Dilys. He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his hands through his hair. He had trod into dangerous territory.

No. To say that would make it sound as if he could still escape unscathed. Maybe if he had left after the first round it would have been possible. For Bishop, being with a woman had been like firing an arrow; he released the bowstring and moved on to another target. But this time, it felt as if the bow had backfired and the arrow had turned upon himself.

Dilys had tried to warn him. She had said they wouldn't be able to stop. He thought she was referring to their activities here, in her room. But they would have to succumb to exhaustion eventually, and they both knew this. What she had meant, was that they wouldn't be able to stop this- this exchange. Their constant dance of words and glances had been leading them up to this point. But instead of being sated, Bishop only hungered for her more. Instead of moving on to another target, he wanted to stay and keep his aim on her. Instead of feeling release after accomplishing his goal, he felt only more bound, unable to simply walk away.

Now that they had crossed that line, there was no going back, and she had told him so. But he had his sights set on his goal and had damned the consequences. His punishment was this moment. He knew that no matter what course of action he took from here, he would not be able to forget this moment. He had followed her for too long, studied her too intently, fought for her too ardently, to erase this perfectly formed image from his mind, and these… feelings from wherever it was they were coming from. What had happened between them was binding, tying him to her.

He couldn't have that.

Bishop straightened up, turning around to look at her sleeping form. If he wanted even a chance to be able to get on with his life, he needed that possibility for a new life to not exist. He needed some note of finality. He couldn't just let his mind wander to her out in the wild, where it was most dangerous. He needed to _know_ her ultimate fate, or he would make mistakes. Bishop wouldn't allow himself to slip because of some woman.

Granted, Dilys was in a category all her own among women. They usually never gained his respect in battle the way she had. He had never really enjoyed bantering with them as he did with her. And he had never let them past his armor, let them know what he was really thinking, as for reasons entirely unknown, Bishop had done with her. No, she was not just some woman.

Somewhere along the way Dilys had become more than just the perfect game, and had become the perfect woman. She was far from perfect in the literal sense, but Bishop had difficulty discrediting her for her flaws, a practice he knew to be stupid and unguarded. She was nothing like he had ever imagined his perfect woman would be. He had always pictured a dark haired siren, as selfish as she was beautiful. Instead he was left with a pale, angel-blooded heroine, unwilling to share her burdens even if it pushed others away.

Yet Dilys remained the only woman who could give him this moment, after he had gained passage to heaven, and before he had destroyed it. He knew he had no place in heaven, where she might as well have fallen from it. She was the forbidden fruit, and now that he had tasted it he must be cast from paradise.

He was a fool to think he could claim someone as challenging as her and remain unfazed. She could tame a viscous killer with her smile and defeat a mountain of a man with her sword. And now she had defeated him.

He tore his gaze away from her and got up off of the bed. As he walked over to the bureau where he had set the leather tunic, he felt a slight tightening in his chest. He hadn't realized how satisfied he was traveling with her until now, at their journey's end. She had provided for more than adequate company, and things seemed a little less bleak when she was around. He supposed that was a quality that drew people toward her as a leader.

Whether or not she believed it herself, she had a way of making others believe they could succeed in the face of adversity. Even he had gotten caught up in the belief, siding with her cause far longer than was safe. She had given him a subtle satisfaction that he didn't even notice he had until it was lost. The occasional annoying interruption not withstanding, his time with her had been bliss. He would miss it, of that he had no control over.

A tiny voice somewhere in the back of his mind laughed and laughed at him. To answer realization of affection with aggression was a ridiculous reaction, it said. The voice offered that attachment wasn't a bad thing, that he could care for someone and still be able to maintain his strength, maybe even become stronger. But before the voice could go on to whisper how perfect things could be with her by his side, he squashed it and all the hope it carried with it. Bishop was used to his way of life. He wouldn't let it change, even for the better.

And so he would sever the strong strings of newly realized attachment with the only way he knew possible...

One of them must die.

He finished dressing and gathered the rest of his items that had been discarded to all corners of the room. Bishop smiled despite himself, already revisiting the memory of what had occurred so little time ago.

His eyes caught her doll sitting innocently on the chair in the corner, and he slowly walked over to it. Bishop picked it up and held it in his palm, giving it a small squeeze. He had taken it from her once before, then given it back to her for what felt like a genuine victory. But that victory was false, so he would be taking the doll back again. Feeling very much like a bratty young boy stealing something from the girl he likes, he pocketed the doll. He didn't know why he would want to keep such an insignificant thing, nor did he care to.

The path Bishop laid for himself would not be easy, but he knew it to be the only way. He placed his hand on the door handle and stole one last glance at her resting form. The image burned itself into his memory, a branding in his mind's eye that matched the scar on her chest. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, opened the door, and left to go check on the gate mechanism.

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><p><strong>Next chapter is the last, but be warned that I won't be straying from the style of ending in the original game (i.e. disappointing). I do realize that it doesn't make for a very good ending though, so next week I will instead be posting a separate story one shot about that life Bishop had imagined for them. It's titled Dawn Days, so keep a lookout if you'd rather see a happy ending to this tale. The final chapter will be posted the following week.<strong>

**And of course, thanks for the reviews.  
><strong>


	17. Labyrinth

Bishop swore and ran his hand down his face as he stalked through the dark hallway of the Shadow Fortress. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. He was supposed to face Dilys in battle, not walk away from her. Yet here he was, leaving everything behind without any hint of certainty, exactly what he couldn't bring himself to do in the first place.

When he revealed to her that he was the one that had sabotaged the gate mechanism, Dilys gave him a look of utter shock. Bishop savored that expression, keeping it focused in his mind's eye as he prepared to do battle with her. He fully expected that shock to grow into fury by the time they met again, so he dwelled on it, studied it, savored it. He used that image to feed any hate he could muster for her.

He had so _wanted_ to hate her, and wanted Dilys to hate him for his betrayal. But when he confronted her before the final battle with Garius, she didn't fly into a blind rage and attack Bishop on the spot. Instead, she calmly listened to his story and why he had to do what he did. He hadn't even intended to tell her about Red Fallow's Watch. The need to explain himself just became too overpowering when met with her expectant gaze.

He detailed how he had burned his own village to the ground for a Luskan initiation ceremony. How both the Luskans and the villagers died by his hand. How he very nearly died as well in the process. And how Duncan came to save his life, binding Bishop to him.

Bishop told Dilys how he had wanted to kill Duncan to rid himself of his debts, and that he had planned to kill her too. He didn't mention that he never once thought about that plan after he had permanently joined up with her, and he couldn't keep the words from spilling out of his mouth about feelings, or having no choice. His confusion made him come off as emotional, when Dilys presented as anything but.

After she had heard his tale, she didn't even try to change his mind. To his incredible frustration, she merely gave a quiet apology and returned her attention to Garius. Bishop hadn't even been worth getting angry over.

Bishop knew his drive to defeat her would be fueled by her own drive for revenge against him. Their confrontation was supposed to result in a violent clash of passionate anger, every bit as primal as their intimate encounter the night before. And Bishop would be the one to end her, plunging his blade into her flesh as he embraced her for the last time.

It was a sickeningly romantic notion, but somehow his feelings for her intertwined with his need to kill her. Just as Bishop became nearly blinded with rage whenever he perceived someone other than himself getting close to her, he became just as angry at the thought of someone else killing her. Dilys was his and his alone, whether to enjoy or destroy.

But Bishop could hardly have an epic battle to the death with Dilys if she couldn't be bothered to fight him. Her nonchalant attitude only mocked him for thinking he could have any impact on her at all the same way she had left her mark on him.

In fact, her very last words to him were a mockery. But it was that goading of him that finally caused him to leave. When Dilys suggested that in serving Garius, Bishop had simply exchanged one master for another, he snapped at her, only to cut himself off.

Dilys hadn't even been looking at Bishop when she made the outrageous claim. She could see only Garius, the determination in her hard eyes promising him defeat. She had looked the same way when they had confronted Ammon Jerro, fighting that battle with no regard for her own life and only the drive to end his.

There could be no final encounter between Dilys and Bishop, because his betrayal of her was unimportant. The Dilys he had made love to the previous night was already dead, and only the living embodiment of the Silver Sword of Gith remained. That weapon was unconcerned with petty human relationships. It sought only the destruction of the King of Shadows and his ward.

It was then that Bishop knew he had to leave. There would be no passion if he stayed to fight, he would only be killed indiscriminately, and it was a defeat that was certain. So Bishop bid farewell to Garius, letting him know that his death at the hands of the Shard-Bearer was guaranteed.

Bishop had stayed behind to lurk in the shadows for a while longer after that, fighting the desire to run back out there and end Garius himself to be sure he couldn't lay a finger on Dilys. Instead he only saw Garius tear apart Dilys's band of adventurers, causing even more people to defect.

Qara didn't hesitate in the slightest when she was offered the chance to betray Dilys. That was hardly a surprise however. They despised each other, and Qara's lust for power had her jumping at the possibility to gain more.

Neeshka's defection was less expected, and Dilys had showed it. Dilys and Neeshka had been friendly enough to each other, but the tiefling's loyalty to the Knight-Captain was not strong enough to resist the binding Garius had placed on her. So Dilys would be forced to kill a companion, simply because she had not tried hard enough to bond with her.

It was the fatal flaw of the Knight-Captain that led to the dissolution of her group. Dilys had always been quite capable of acquiring allies, the full roster at Crossroad Keep was proof of that. But when it came to making friends… she fell short. She would not open up to her companions, hesitated to express her true feelings, and refused to share her burdens. Dilys was a fine leader, well suited to her role as Knight-Captain. She just wasn't a very good friend.

It was tragic really, how the Aasimar's supposed allies abandoned her one by one. If Dilys had made more of an effort to open up and connect with her team mates, then perhaps they would not have left her. But out of all of her companions, it was Bishop himself she tried hardest with. She spent the most time with him at the expense of everyone else, and her relationship with them suffered for it. Elanee, Neeshka, Qara... because of Dilys's neglect there was no great love lost by their parting. It was only Bishop she had formed a real connection with, and that made his betrayal of her the most complete.

Perhaps that was why Bishop felt so angry as he made his way to the exit. Dilys seemed genuinely surprised and hurt when the others had abandoned her. And yet when it was Bishop standing against her, she was barely fazed.

Over the last few weeks, Dilys and Bishop had spent nearly every waking moment together. They knew more about each other than anyone else, and Bishop knew he had grown closer to her than he had with anyone before. And yet, even after all they had been through together, she showed no emotion to his betrayal. She didn't even care.

No, that couldn't be right.

Dilys hadn't personally tended to his burn so effectively because she didn't care. She didn't keep Bishop with her even when he pushed her away for nothing. And the few wonderful hours they spent together in her bedroom weren't meaningless.

If anything could express her true intentions towards him, it was the words she had said what felt like an eternity ago. The words he could barely comprehend, much less deal with them.

"_Bishop, for all your barbs and doublespeak, I'm glad you're you. So don't act like I'm just using you_," she had said, much to his surprise. The idea that someone could like Bishop just for being himself was such a foreign concept to him that he simply ignored it. But he couldn't ignore it anymore.

Dilys _did_ care. As much as he wanted to deny it, to hate her, and to keep his distance... the brittle, blackened, and dry heart of him that so desperately craved her affection would not allow it. It forced him to open his eyes, to look at everything she had done with this new light shining down upon it.

Bishop slowed his pace to a walk as he thought back to the night before. When he had offered to guide just the two of them away from the keep in that most intimate of settings, she had denied him. Instead she had suggested that he leave without her, to go on alone and never see her again. Dilys hadn't put forth the idea because she didn't want him around, she did so in order for him to escape the inevitable slaughter. So that he would _survive_.

Her indifferent demeanor when Bishop confronted her with his betrayal wasn't because she didn't care, it was because she wanted him to leave, to survive. If she had been enraged and allowed him to be angry at her in return, then he would fight. He would fight her, and she would definitely kill him. So she showed restraint, and suppressed her certain disappointment.

If she had instead acted benevolently, pleaded with him to reverse his betrayal and fight by her side, then he would have likely been killed as well. Nothing would stop Dilys from killing Garius, but there was no guarantee she or any of her companions would survive the King of Shadows. So she hid her compassion, allowing Bishop to perceive a lack of attachment and walk away.

Even in such a pivotal moment, she had carefully controlled her behavior to force him away. Because even after everything Bishop had done wrong to her, his abusive attitude and traitorous behavior… Dilys still wanted him to live.

She wasn't concerned with her own life, or those of her companions. Unlike himself, they were willing to die by her side. Above anyone else in the world, she wanted someone as broken and worthless as Bishop to keep on living. _He_ was the one she wanted to save, even though he wasn't worth saving. Because she loved him.

Dilys loved him. Bishop.

Bishop stopped walking and stood very still. He knew he was a despicable person for what he had done, and that he couldn't possibly deserve her. His unacknowledged vein of self loathing ran so deep that a part of him hoped she would enact her righteous vengeance and kill him herself, finally ending his awful existence.

But Dilys _loved_ him, in the same way she loved the people of West Harbor. She wanted them to live too, even if she couldn't be around to see them happy herself. Even if she died and could no longer be with the man she loved.

Bishop turned and looked back the way he came. Her final wish was for him to survive. He should keep going, leave this accursed place and see her wish fulfilled. But he felt growing in him a tiny seed of a feeling that nearly washed away the ash surrounding his heart: hope.

Hope that if she loved him enough to want him to live, then she would love him enough to forgive his betrayal. Hope that going back could redeem him for all the rotten abuses he had unleashed on her. Hope that Dilys could actually defeat the King of Shadows, and save Neverwinter as she had planned. And hope that Bishop could fight by her side to help her survive that battle, and become a part of her life afterwords.

Because he loved her too.

Bishop broke into a run. Not towards the exit, but back to the inner sanctum where the battle was currently raging. Bishop loved Dilys, and for the first time in his life, he cared about someone else more than himself. He would fight for her, die for her, but do everything in his power to see _her_ survive.

His lungs burned as he sprinted down the hallways, but his chest swelled with emotion, giving him the strength to push onward. He no longer cared about being tied down, attached, or bound to Dilys. He felt free. Even though he had no idea what would happen, his path was clearer than it had ever been.

The Shadow Fortress was a large complex maze, but Bishop made good time running through it. His abilities as a scout were useful even in a place such as this, and before long he reached the long hallway that led to his destination. He could see the large double doors at the end, waiting for him to break them down.

Just as he started running down the corridor, a loud crack pierced the air. Bishop stopped in his tracks, having a suspicious feeling that he knew what had just happened. As if to answer his mental accusation, a slow rumble shook the building, growing in volume and speed as bits of the ceiling began to rain down to the floor below.

Bishop bolted forward, determined to reach Dilys. He flew through the hall with all the speed he could muster, and fortune alone kept him from being crushed by falling debris. He could hear large chunks of rock crashing down behind him, and he didn't need to look back to know the path was blocked. The hallway was long, and he had only just made it to the halfway point.

Then the doorway collapsed, taking down any chance of entering the great room with it. Bishop slowed to a stop, breathing heavily as the building continued to quake around him. The only path to Dilys was blocked, and so was the way to the exit. Bishop was trapped, and Dilys was trapped. They would both die here.

Bishop fell to his knees, laughing quietly at himself. He had condemned himself to certain death, and wasn't sorry at all for it.

He felt like such a fool. Dilys knew she was going to die, perhaps even counted on it. But Bishop had been forming all his machinations, plans, and schemes in the entire time he had known her, and yet _he_ was the one who couldn't figure things out.

Bishop didn't even understand his own feelings. It was mere moments ago that he had wanted to kill Dilys, so that he would be sure no one else could. But Bishop was now quite certain that even if he had managed to best Dilys in battle, he would not be able to kill her.

He had felt furious at the thought of someone else harming her, and somehow interpreted that as the need to kill her himself. Only now Bishop could see that it was because he wanted to protect Dilys, not kill her. He had been so emotionally broken that he couldn't even identify something as simple as love before it was staring him in the face. He had been immeasurably conflicted for no real reason.

He was going to die alone in a hallway, simply because he couldn't make up his mind. He couldn't decide who to side with, live or die, love or hate. He just couldn't figure out the winning side. It was Dilys who understood that there was no winning side, and that heading into the final confrontation with the King of Shadows was the ultimate end.

Now that he finally understood, he was trapped here. Hatred had loosened its vice-like grip on him and allowed his mind to clear, but it had happened too late. He had been freed of the labyrinth of his own heart, only to be condemned to death in a literal one. But he wasn't bothered.

He felt strangely at peace. The certainty of his fate was no longer a comfort, but his freedom was. Just as before when he last came close to death, he could feel the chains slipping away. Not the chains of obligation, but chains of self-imposed confinement.

He had forced himself into a certain miserable way of life, because of a distorted perception he had of who he was. Now, he would die in a way that would completely break that perception. A type of death that was completely out of the character he had told himself he was.

He looked back at the collapsed door frame, wondering how Dilys was faring behind it. That wall of debris might as well have been an infinite distance for how it kept him away from her, and he wished more than anything he could be by her side at the end. But even though she would never know of his sudden dramatic change of heart, he still felt closer to her than anyone in his entire life.

He reached into the large pouch at his belt, and pulled out the small doll he had taken from Dilys. He looked at it with a soft smile, running his finger along the hair of yarn.

"Turns out I'm a sentimentalist after all, Dilys," Bishop said quietly. "You knew me better than I knew myself." He let out a sigh as the trembling of the building worsened, causing rocks to fall all around him.

"Dilys," he whispered, hoping some sort of magic would allow his voice to reach her so she could hear him as the world fell apart. "I love you."

* * *

><p><strong>I think impending mortal doom can help a person get past their emotional hangups... And though I love MotB too much to just disregard it for the sake of a well rounded ending, I hated how that expansion ignores any positive influence you built up with Bishop so that he knows you care for him and not Casavir. Kinda negates any epic romance I imagined for him... :(<strong>

**But this concludes the longest fanfic I ever wrote, and I hope you readers enjoyed it. Extreme thanks to Arc Ascendent, EpitomyofShyness, RoseDragonscales412, tehmibs, Vshard, xX-LittleBlackSparrow-Xx, T, Fendie, Sarah J, MoonLightDancerElf, and Lisa for their feedback. This story was difficult to complete, so reading the reviews that were genuinely insightful, constructive, and downright moving make me glad I finally finished it.**


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